


Roses

by xoTheMonsterYouMade



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Otep - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Horror, M/M, Other, Paranormal, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoTheMonsterYouMade/pseuds/xoTheMonsterYouMade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Like roses, we blossom and die.<br/>Like roses, we blossom and die<br/>We've fallen apart, fallen apart.<br/>We've fallen apart, fallen apart.<br/>Fallen apart...<br/>We fall, like roses..."</p><p>-- It Was Written In Blood - Bring Me The Horizon</p><p>In which desperation leads a young person called Mikey Way to do something stupid; so utterly unintelligent and unbelievably impulsive that a disastrous chain of events begin to occur. This disastrous chain will cause chaos, so much so that it makes Mikey wonder;<br/>Was this all really worth bringing their brother back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wake up. Pray. Eat. Go to school. Stare into space for hours. Eat lunch at the coffee house down the street. Go back to school. Go home. Stare some more. Drink and fuck around with makeup if their mother isn't home. Pray. Eat. Go to bed.

Say they'll be asleep within the hour. Ends up staying awake the whole night, their blank stare so powerful that it could probably burn through the ceiling.

Lie. Waste away. A slow eventual decay, a withering flower. Its a continous routine, a cycle, and its the only thing keeping Mikey Way sane. Maybe not even sane. Just functioning. Just enough to satisfy the world around them.

The loud 'bang' always haunts Mikey like some cursed spirit. The spirit seems to possess them, keep them awake, hour after hour. The rare days with sleep are filled with dreadful nightmares, vivid enough that they all feel real. Sometimes during the day, they'll even hallucinate. Whether its due to exhaustion, or through devloping mental illness, its there.

The worst days are the ones where they hallucinate Gerard. Gerard Way, their long diceased brother, who committed suicide three years ago. 

Gerard Way was everything to Mikey. Gerard was their mentor; he had helped them come to grips with their gender issues, and with sexuality. Gerard taught Mikey how to love and accept, instead of falling into the hate their momma had tried to ingrain into them with the 'justification' of religion. 

Mikey used to be such a racist, homophobic piece of shit. Gerard changed that, made Mikey come to their senses and realize; if God was so loving and accepting, they wouldn't discriminate someone because of sexuality or looks. 

The thing though, was that even though Mikey was starting to not be naive to sexuality and appearance, they were naive to mental illness. So much so, that they didn't notice Gerard falling into a crippling, spiraling depression. They would stupidly believe that the scars on Gerard's arms were from falls and bike accidents. When Gerard spontaneously gave Mikey his prized art set, Mikey only thought it was an early birthday present. Same with the many metal CDs that Gerard had to hide from Momma. Just presents.

Mikey didn't think of anything when their brother insisted on staying home sick that day, even though he looked physically fine. They didn't think of anything when Gerard hugged them tightly before they left for school. They didn't notice the slip of paper that Gerard had crammed into Mikey's back pocket till their then friend, Ray, pointed it out at school later that day. 

Once Mikey unfolded the crinkled piece of paper, and read the words, they bursted into tears. Those words became forever carved into their brain, scarred into there. Scars that Mikey wished they could itch and rip apart. But they couldn't obviously, they just couldn't. Their brain just hurt, ached with the pain of a hard punch.

They read;

Dearest Mikey, 

When you read this, I'll probably be long gone. No, not in a running away sense. Well actually, I guess it is sort of like running away. But I'm not just running away from home, or you, or Momma. I'm running away from everything. This whole world. I wanted to tell you though, before I go, to please don't get yourself hung up over this. Please remember all of the things I've told you, don't let yourself fall back into your state of bitter judgmental hate. Be strong for Momma; Dad might come back for this, momentarily. You gotta be strong for him too. Don't let everything fall into more of a disarray. I know it's easier to let everything go, but you can't; you fucking can't Mikey, please. Live a good propserous life for me. I love you; you're the best sibling anyone could have. Thank you for sticking with me throughout all of these years. Thanks for the board games, the jam out sessions, hell even the arguments. Thank you for filling the tension filled empty silence with your joy and innocence. Thank you for giving me something to actually give a fuck about. And I know you probably now believe that I don't care, but you have to believe me when I say, this is all for the best. This is what is best for everyone. I'm sorry if this hurts you. I'm so fucking sorry that I couldn't be strong for you. So fucking sorry...

\-- Gerard

It was lunch at the time when Mikey had read that letter. They were allowed to leave during then. So with no explanation to Ray, or to any of their other friends, Mikey ran out of the cafeteria. Their backpack was heavy, but adrenaline was running through their veins, and they couldn't feel a thing. 

It took a solid ten minutes to get back to the house. As Mikey opened the front door, and called "Gerard??", a loud bang echoed throughout the home. 

The adrenaline oozed out of Mikey, and they suddenly felt the purest form of dread weigh their body down. Every step felt like it was a million pounds, and Mikey slowly but surely made their way to Gerard's room.

They opened the door cautiously, it making a loud 'creaking' noise. 

And that's when Mikey found Gerard, sat up against the wall, obviously dead. The blood was splattered against the surface, a fucked up painting of sorts, and Gerard himself was practically unrecognizable. He had shoved the damn gun up his mouth, and fired. 

Mikey had wailed, and screamed, and made so many disturbing noises. It was the sound of a fragile person being ripped apart at the very seams, and even though Mikey was very much alive, he mentally started to feel as dead as the corpse layed out in front of him.

And from that moment on, Mikey remained in this vegetable-like numb state. The only thing making them alive is the fact that they're breathing. 

Momma was distraught after the death of Gerard. Or at least, she at first seemed like she was. Later she started saying things like that Gerard was a faggot, and that he was destined to burn in hell. That she wished she could've cured him before the 'gayness turned him crazy' or whatever.

That was when Mikey made the realization that Momma didn't ever really love them at all. That God was a total bullshit concept. The only reason they pray is avoid conflict with Momma.

Momma has quite the temper, the kind that involves throwing things and screaming impulsive nonsence. The kind that scares the crap out of Mikey. To be honest, they understand why their father left Momma..  
Mikey just wished, and still wishes, that their father could've taken Gerard and them with him. Maybe things would've turned out differently.

Maybe Mikey wouldn't be pondering all of these crazy ideas, the ones involving rituals and spellbooks, and the ditzy concept their mother would say is Devil's Work. Magic.

Mikey has never really actually had a strong belief in magic. They knew magicians were a thing, but their 'spells' were just tricks and illusions. Nothing actually real happened.

But Mikey is getting restless. They need guidance, they need love, they need someone who would give a fuck. 

Mikey believes that the only person who ever truly cared was Gerard. 

So Mikey currently is sitting on their bed, wearing a black crop top they stole from the mall, and dark navy jeans. They're reading an old dusty book they got from the library. The binding on the book is breaking, and the pages are loose, torn, and frayed. Not to mention that the words are scrawled in a messy latin script. They wish it was something a little more simple, like Spanish. But of course, because it fits the exact stereotype of spellbooks, its in god damn latin.

Mikey is currently using Google Translate on their phone. Its a really crappy quality translator to be honest, but its better than nothing.

They've been reading and translating for a couple hours now. Momma had left to go to parent teacher conferences at the school, and she would probably be back soon. They hope that they can find what they're looking for before she gets home.

Finally, Mikey reads in ordine ad mortuos suscitate, which ends up translating to 'in order to raise the dead'.

Hearing the front door open, Mikey rips the page out of the book, and shoves the page in their pocket. They then throw the book under their bed, with the shit ton of other things they hide from their mom (feminine clothing, Gerard's metal CDs, an emergency stash of marijuana for the times they really want to stop thinking, etc etc). Mikey rips off their crop top, and gets under the covers, pretending to sleep.

Momma doesn't even bother to knock, barging into Mikey's room,

"Aww honey, I know you're tired. Yesterday's orchestra concert must've been tiring for you. But it's noon, and you have to get up. You don't want to mess up your sleeping schedule, do you?"

What Momma doesn't know is that Mikey's sleeping schedule is already screwed up beyond repair. But Mikey silently complies, sitting up and pretending to stretch. 

"Now, some of our friends from church are coming over for lunch in a little bit. Can you please dress up nice? And try to socialize for once?"

"Sure..."

Mikey mumbles.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes Momma,"

Mikey beams sarcastically.

"That's my boy!" 

She grins, and Mikey can't help but cringe at the term 'boy'.

Mikey doesn't know what gender they are yet, but they do know for sure that they are NOT a boy. 

Momma shuts the door, and sashays off.

Mikey figures that they've got a pretty good amount of time before they actually have to start getting ready. So they take the page back out of their pocket, and grab the nearest notebook. They pick back up from where they started, and by the time Momma yells at Mikey, asking if they're ready or not, Mikey has got the whole page translated.

Except, of course, the smallest part, scribbled in over the artwork showing how the ritual must be done. Its literally incomprehensible, which is the only reason why Mikey didn't attempt to translate it. But that chicken scratch of handwriting, that would end up being the most important part of the ritual. Although technincally it isn't really a part of the ritual persay. It's a warning;

Cavete eaque non est benedictionem, sed maledictionem.

Beware of this spell, it is not a blessing, but a curse.

Ex quo didici, non habent ibi mortuos excitari.

I have learned from this that the dead are not meant to be awakened.

Sunt monstra,

They are monsters,

et quicquid ille ante mortem

and anything that person was before death

perit.

is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Pete and Mikey meet, and Mikey concocts a rather fucked up scheme.

There was only one minor issue with the ritual Mikey is planning to do. Well, two actually.

One was that he needed to dig up Gerard's corpse. And the other? Well, in the ingredients, it calls for a human sacrifice.

Mikey hates hurting people. Its something that they just can't bring themselves to do. Its why they haven't gone the extra mile to self destruct. Its why the trigger hasn't been pulled, the chair hasn't been kicked, and the knife hasn't sliced flesh.

Mikey knows the terrible grief that their parents had when they lost Gerard. They can remember the funeral as clear as day; all of the people dressed in different shades of blacks and grays and blues. People everywhere, friends, family members, hell even mere aquaintances and people who didn't even know him, they were all sobbing.  
Gerard's bullies also ended up coming. Mikey had tried to get Momma to kick them out. But she didn't, she said everyone who needs to mourn should be able to mourn in peace. But Mikey knew they weren't there to mourn. Not authentically anyway. They were there to kiss everyone's ass, shmoozing to make themselves look nice. To make it look like they didn't at least somewhat contribute to Gerard's death.

It made Mikey physically ill. They literally had to run out mid-service to vomit, the vibrantly colored flowers passing by in a blur. Ray had run over, and had tried his best to make Mikey feel better. This would be the first in many miserably pathetic attempts to lift up Mikey's spirits, to make them at least smile. It didn't work then, and if Ray had still continued trying, they probably wouldn't work now. They understand why Ray stopped trying, they really did. Mikey is a hopeless lost cause, a waste of space, a speck of dust in a world of grand skyscrapers and striking lights. 

So anyway, Mikey doesn't want to cause any other family that kind of grief and stress. They especially don't want to force an innocent person into the current unhealthy mental state they're in.

But god damn it, it's Gerard. Gerard Way, Mikey's brother, the one who never judged them and gave them a safe space to be themselves. Mikey must choose; is taking someone's life without consent really worth saving someone who chose to end theirs? Is it really fair? Is Mikey that desperate? That selfish? That needy of some loving accepting authority figure?

Mikey ponders this as they pick at their lunch. Momma is making small talk about the weather with Linda, and Linda's son Pete is giving Mikey the strangest look. They can't decide if Pete is judging them harshly, or if he might actually, by some miracle, be checking them out. It's most likely the first of the two, but still. Mikey can dream.

Like their gender, sexuality is up in the air for Mikey. All they know is that they are definitely not straight. But unlike Gerard, who made the mistake of coming out to their obviously homophobic mother, Mikey will not tell anyone. It is another secret that no one knows about Mikey, another unknown factoid that no one cares for anymore. They all just settle for the rumors, the ones that state that Mikey is some kind of killer, some kind of nightmare, some ticking time bomb ready to explode. Even though none of those are true, they keep people (even the ones that used to know Mikey like the back of their hand) away, and it makes isolating themselves a lot easier. They're not as much of a burden anymore. Which, to Mikey, is satisfying.

"Now Michael,"

Momma says in a clipped tone,

"Why aren't you eating your food?"

Mikey knows that Linda made the casserole herself, and that Momma somehow probably twists them not eating into some 'rude' or 'rebellious' gesture. When really, they're just deep in thought about the typical relatable teen thoughts of possible murder.

"I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I,"

Pete mumbles.

The moms share a look, and Mikey can see a lightbulb go off in both of their heads. Great. They're probably going to force Pete and them to hang out or some bullshit like that.

"Oh! Well, why don't you two go in Michael's room and play some video games or something! That should be fun!"

Mikey swears, people should literally just call them Raven Baxter. Or maybe Momma is just a really predictable person. Who knows?

Mikey knows that there's no choice in the matter, so they get up, and gesture for Pete to follow them. 

Mikey flops on top of the bed, and they're shocked when Pete shuts the door and spits,

"I fucking hate them both so much."

"Oh? So you're not a homophobic bible thumper?"

"I, by some miracle, am not. Have you ever heard of the saying 'assuming makes an ass out of you and me'? Yeah, don't assume things about me based on my mom's dumb ignorant perspective. If I did that to you, you would punch me in the face."

"Ah. Touche."

"I've never been religious to be honest. It all feels so plastic, so fake. Like, its entirely obvious that its just a fantasy to give people the hope that they never truly die, that they don't just stop thinking and stop seeing and just stop feeling. I--"

"I'm not some kind of therapist that you can unload all of your problems and philosphical understandings to, ya know that right Pete?"

Pete's face turned sour, like as if he just ate a lemon. Which is good, that's exactly what Mikey wants.

"I do know that. I was just stating my opinion. I thought we were having a conversation, and conversations usually involve an exchange of opinions and statements between two or more people."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the conversing type. I'd rather have silence. And please don't make some dumb comment about silence being awkward, or I swear, I'm going to punch a damn wall."

"... But it is awkward though.. especially with someone like you, someone I don't know well at all."

"Let me just say this; In a world of constant chaotic noise, with the sounds of screams and bullets and explosions, a moment of silence is a blessing for me. So quit taking up this perfectly peaceful moment with your forced attempts of small talk."

"I'm not making small talk though. I'm being real with you, I'm not trying to cover it up with useless gossip or complaining just to sound angsty."

Mikey groans. This kid just won't ever shut up, will he?

"Well don't 'be real' with me or however the hell you phrased it. I like silence, I like imagining good outcomes rather than experience bad ones. Just leave me be with my thoughts, and I'll do the same to you. We can sit in peace."

"But I can't sit in peace though! I just can't Mikey. I think too much already, can't you do me the favor of being a good distraction so I can just stop thinking for once? You said outside noises bother you, right? Well, outside noise doesn't bother me that much. Its the shit inside of me man. The shit in my head."

Mikey doesn't want to admit it, but the way Pete is speaking, it reminds them of their brother. The pessimistic phrasing, and the self destruction thats probably happening just underneath Pete's churchboy looking exterior. 

If Pete is apparently like Mikey's brother, does he think about suicide too? Does it loom over him like the shadow of a tall tree, or does it eat at him like some kind of parasite? Is Pete really as depressed as that quote subtly hinted at, or is he just desperately trying to find some way to relate to the mess of a person in front of him?

An idea popped into Mikey's head. It's so fucked up though, so unbelievably fucked up.  
It all comes down to whether Mikey seriously is going to try the ritual, or they'll ignore it, sweep it away like every bit of hope that sometimes just barely sprinkles into their life. 

In the quietest voice, as timid as a mouse, Mikey asks,

"Do you ever think about ending it all?"

Pete chuckles bitterly,

"You go from saying that I can't talk to you about jack shit, to then asking me about suicide? What the actual fuck Mikey?!"

"Sorry..."

Pete sighs, raking a hand through his dark brown hair,

"Ummm...--"

Pete is a truly lonely soul. He doesn't have many friends in his uptight Catholic school; the people there were either literal angels or devil incarnates. There was no one drifting in between the two opposites, where black and white blend into different shades of gray. No one like Pete.  
There was Patrick, who Pete desperately wanted to believe gave a shit. They talked a lot, and Patrick would attempt to give advice to many of Pete's problems. Even though the majority of Patrick's solutions were textbook cliches that Pete tried a million times, there was just something about the way Patrick phrased things that made you think; Wow, maybe if I do do this, things will get better. Maybe things can be okay.

But things never really are okay, and no matter how many hugs Patrick gives and no matter how many sweet words are uttered, things will forever be unsatisfying, and bland, and meaningless, and just all around hopeless.

And then comes this person, Mikey Way, whom Pete knew had a lot of issues. Everyone knew that Mikey's brother Gerard committed suicide. In the public schools, in the private schools, in the churches, in the libraries where records of news articles are kept, on social media sites. It seemed that almost the entire general public knew about the tragic end of Gerard Way, and the horrible judgmental ass known as Donna Way, and the now entirely numb innocent person stuck in this predicament known as Michael 'Mikey' Way. 

Mikey is just as fucked up as him, and there's no need to put up walls here in Pete's opinion, because what's the point? Since Pete knows a good chunk about Mikey's screwed up existence, even though he barely knows them, Pete thinks that telling Mikey about his shit might even out the scale a little bit. They'll know equally as much about each other, which is pleasing to Pete.

"-- Sometimes."

"I do too,"

Mikey lies,

"There are just times where it all seems so pointless, ya know?'

"Right, yeah. Like, we're forced to plan our futures as teenagers. How do we know what'll be best for us? Especially at an age where we're just starting to grasp how things work. I just... sometimes its just all too much... and I just want it all to stop. But I'm also scared. What if there's nothing after this? What if its just darkness and silence? When I compare infinite darkness to a world where there is a slight possibility of getting out of this pit, I would rather live and have a chance then die and never be able to try again."

"But Pete, honestly, how big is that chance? Is all of this pain really worth the miniscule chance of possible recovery?"

"Well, apparently you must think so, since you're still here and not dead already."

"Well, I actually am starting to not think so.... this is all becoming rather worthless. There are only two reasons why I haven't done it yet. One, I don't want to cause anyone to self destruct and become like I currently am. And also, I haven't done it yet is because like you, I'm scared. I'm scared of being alone when I die, and I'm also scared of what comes after this... I know this may sound a bit crazy, but.. maybe if we do it together, it won't be as terrifying... we can get out of this shit hole of a world, be free of its trash and decay... no more criticizing parents, no more schoolwork or responsibility, no more bullies and cruel people.. and the best part, no more noise. No more thinking. No more self destructing... no more... no more.."

Mikey is a better lier than they thought they were. The words sound genuine, and they bring a sour feeling of nausea to Mikey's stomach. Maybe the sick bitter feeling is from the guilt, growing with every second that Pete stares at them in a state of utmost disbelief and incomprehension. Or maybe it's the fact that Mikey feels like they just opened up to a person... for the first time in awhile. But how can someone open up to a person if all they say are lies? Mikey keeps telling themselves that that's all the words are; just lies to help with a fucked up plot. But maybe, just maybe, it isn't all lies. Maybe Mikey is spitting some truth, and maybe some part of Mikey, a small itsy bit, does actually want to give in, and let the pain thats haunted them for years go. 

But they will never accept they really are in this severe state of mind, even though that would somewhat help Mikey with the recovery that they, like Pete, crave. Mikey is in a bitter state of denial, and that just makes everything worse.

"What... what are you suggesting?"

Pete asks in a hushed tone.

"What does it sound like?"

"Some kind of... suicide pact. I've only heard of that kind of shit in movies and TV shows... that sounds crazy... I can't Mikey. I fucking can't. I may be depressed, and on the edge of everything, and five seconds from letting myself fall off of that very ledge but... Life is about struggle, and this will just be another struggle in the end. There are so many memories to be made, so many friends to meet, so many jobs to try and classes to take. Somewhat like I said earlier, I'd rather be alive and scared than dead and not."

"But how do you know how any of that will work out?"

"I don't. Which I guess is the cool part about it..."

Pete has to force the last sentence out. The possibility of failure, of living in a box someday, or of getting addicted to some kind of drug, or getting murdered... All of the horrible things that could happen. But Pete is working on it, working on accepting the fact that shit happens, and there's nothing he can really do to keep it from happening. His therapist, Dory, helps with that a lot. She's really good at calming Pete down, and helping him sort things out logically. The doctors just upped his dosage of medication, and its been somewhat helping, to the point where, like mentioned before, Pete sees a small ray of hope. 

Mikey is striking Pete's toughest insecurity, and he doesn't know why Mikey wants to do that. Is Mikey a bully? Is this some overly intelligent of telling Pete to go kill himself, that he isn't worth anything, and that he has no purpose at all other than to take up space? Then again, Mikey said they'd kill themselves too.

Pete is just really bad at interpreting things. He analyzes every outcome, every meaning, every small word. He can never tell which interpretation is right, or which one is over exaggerated, or which one is totally off. 

Mikey stares at him with cold, blank eyes, waiting. Waiting for him to crack. 

Pete knows that Mikey can sense the utter bullshit in his statement, and is fumbling over what to say next, or how to convince Mikey to somehow believe him. The silence causes more pressure to weigh down on Pete, and he starts to fall into his nervous habit of picking at the scabs on his arms. 

Mikey is quite the impatient person, so they finally state (confirming what Pete already suspected),

"That's not true. I can tell. You crave control over the future, and the unknown, just like me. We're the same, and I believe that we should say 'fuck this!' and do the one thing we can do that would definitely determine our fates; end it. Just end it. Its so easy, and everything that you despise about this world will disappear. We won't have to care about the stress of our unknown futures. We don't have to listen to everyone's bullshit anymore,"

Something inside Mikey propels them forward, and they find themselves standing up, grabbing Pete's hand for good measure. They give it a reassuring squeeze, and Pete is now just absolutely dumbfounded as to what to make of any of this.

"Pete... Please. Do this fo-- I mean, with me. We've dealt with everyone's shit long enough, we deserve a break."

"This isn't a break though Mikey, this is a fucking permanent vacation, a retirement of sorts. I don't want to stop trying yet."

Mikey knows that they just need to find the right buttons to push, a couple of philsophically pessmistic statements and a few hard hitting questions should do the trick.

"Why try? Who are you so trying so hard to please?"

"There's no one in particular I'm trying for. I'm doing this for my best interests, and only that. You know who told my mom I was depressed and cutting? Me. She didn't know because of how ignorant she was. You know who demanded help, a therapist at least? Me. I did this for me, Mikey. And maybe you should fucking do it for yourself too."

And with that, Pete rips his hand away, and storms out of the room.

With that, Mikey smiles. 

They had gotten through to him.

x x x x x x

It's three days later, when the home phone rings. 

Mikey expects it to be for Momma, like it always is. But they're surprised when she barges into the room with the phone, with a blinding bright smile on her face,

"It's Linda's son, Pete! And he's asking for you! Oh, I'm so happy you too are friends now! Pete will be a good influence--"

"Momma, I don't want to be rude or anything, but can you please just hand me the phone so I can talk to him?"

"Oh! Of course, sorry, I'll give you some privacy."

She hands them the phone, and sashays off, slamming the door behind her.

Mikey could barely get out a 'hello' when Pete bluntly asks,

"When and where?"

"What are you talking about?"

Mikey knows what Pete is talking about, of course. There's this fucked up giddy feeling bubbling inside them at the thought of their brother being back, and Pete helping, and just the whole thing feels great. It's a euphoric high, and Mikey is struggling with keeping their face straight and their voice monotone and flat.

"The suicide thing. What are we doing?"

"I thought you said you were trying to get better?"

"Well honestly, fuck that, just totally disregard all of that optemistic bullshit I said earlier. You were right, there is no hope or point. Just tell me the details and I'll be there."

Mikey can tell that this is an impulsive decision on Pete's part. He's probably having one of those icky low days, the ones that the day just seems to drag and everything feels so dull and dumb, and you feel as hollow as a deep hole.

So Mikey knows they've got a very limited amount of time before Pete changes his mind and goes back to trying to recover.

"Tonight. Midnight. At the cemetary, the one by the junior high and that long stretch of houses that look practically lifeless. Bring a knife."

"Can't we do something quicker? Like a gun or something?"

"No. That's too gory..."

"And slitting our wrists isn't? Dude. Also, why the cemetary?"

Mikey dodges the first question, and just says,

"It just seems fitting, ya know?"

"... I guess... see ya there..."

Mikey can now hear hesitance, barely creeping into Pete's voice. Without saying goodbye, Mikey abruptly hangs up. 

With the hanging up of the phone, and Pete being locked into meeting Mikey no matter what, the first domino drops in this toxic chain of events. It won't be long until all of the dominoes come crashing down in destructive yet swirling pretty patterns. The noise echoes throughout a silent universe, who's holding their breath, waiting for the delicate system they've created to collapse in a heap of unorganized pieces and broken parts.

But if you want to discard descriptive metaphors and dramatics and get straight to the point, shit is soon going to hit the fan. Mikey doesn't know this now, but later, they will regret this phone call, and this ritual, and everything.

Maybe Mikey deserves what's coming for them though. Because this is the type of bad karma you get for convincing an innocent person, clean for two months, who's finally starting to open up to people, who finally thought that life might be worth the pain, that they should abandon everything they've been working on for the past couple of years and go fucking kill themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mikey's scheme is carried out, and there's a bunch of angst.

It's 10:30 pm, and Mikey is scared.

They know they have to leave soon if they want to dig up Gerard's casket. But something in Mikey keeps procrastinating, keeps telling them over and over 'you can wait a little longer. you don't have to leave now. in fact you don't have to leave at all. you can go to sleep and not go through with this. just abandon pete there. you may lose his friendship, but you deserve it, since you were planning to basically murder him anyway...'

The word 'murder' intimidates Mikey. Its a big bolded violent word, a gruesome phrase with all capital letters, underlined and scribbled a million times in Mikey's mental journal.

Murder.

They were going to murder someone. For Gerard. And that fact alone had convinced them earlier that this all was totally justifiable. But the grim reality is starting to finally settle in, that Mikey is stealing someone's life away. Someone's thoughts and dreams and future experiences. Someone's hope, and someone's love, and someone's sadness and struggle. Thinking about the name being put in place of that 'someone' makes Mikey even more sick to their stomach.

Pete Wentz.

The worst part of it all is that Pete trusted them for the smallest fraction of time. And what did that do for him? It's basically getting him killed. God damn it Pete, why must you be so naive? So trusting? 

Why did their paths have to cross at this specific time, when Mikey is so desperate and has spiraled down to a low point beyond saving? Why couldn't they have talked more in depth years ago? Or maybe sometime in the distant future? They could've been friends. Maybe even more than that. They both seemed to relate on multiple things, and they seemed like the perfect pair. Pete would be the emotional one, the one who freaks out and is a bit of a spaz. And Mikey would've been the more stoic of the two, but yet they could've kept Pete grounded. They would've worked. Could've worked.

But obviously those are all sad impossible what-ifs, things that would never happen now. Because Pete is going to die, and Mikey is going to forever live with the regret of innocently cutting Pete's life brutally short. 

Mikey sighs, and makes a mental checklist in that fucked up inner journal of their's;

1\. Shove the needed pages in their pocket  
2\. Grab a shovel  
3\. Dig up Gerard's casket  
4\. Say the spell  
5\. Slit wrists with Pete. *not enough to die, but enough for Pete to notice they did it.  
6\. Wait for Pete to die  
7\. Gerard comes back.  
8\. Do something with Pete's body.

It's a relatively simple list for a plan that's so unbelievably screwed up. It makes everything seem so relatively quick, so utterly easy.  
But of course, it's not. It never would be, not if you had any emotions at all.

Mikey slipped quite the dosage of sleeping medication in their mother's drink earlier. So hopefully she doesn't wake up anytime soon.

Mikey sighs, and rakes a hand through their hair.

10:45 the alarm clock now reads, and Mikey knows they cannot wait any longer, or else the plan would go awfully wrong.

So they get the spellbook pages from under the bed, and folds them neatly. Then, exactly like his list states, they put them in their pocket. They creep over to the bedroom door, and slowly open it, crossing their fingers that it doesn't creak. But of course it does, this house is older than dirt and so incredibly unreliable. 

Mikey cringes, but once they hear their mother's loud snores, they breathe a sigh of relief. They take careful steps, making sure that they don't step on any noisy floorboards. Finally, they reach the kitchen. Only a few more feet, and then they'll make it to the garage.

They eye out the enviroment, making sure they don't bump into any furniture or appliances. Finally they're there, at the garage door. The air is thick with tension, and it feels suffocating to Mikey. It takes everything in them to finally turn the door knob.

The garage is piled high with boxes of unused things, and various gardening appliances hang on the walls. 

The shovel lays by the backdoor, glittering in the moonlight filtering through the door's window. It feels like Mikey is in some sort of video game, and this is an object hidden in the setting that'd help a lot later on the journey. Once they pick up the object, it is forever in their mental inventory, and it is the beginning of a new chance, a new chapter. A quest of sorts.

Once they complete the quest, they get their brother back. And that's all Mikey has ever wanted for the last few years. 

They bend down, and lift up the shovel, inspecting it. It's littered with cobwebs and old grime. Mikey can't even remember the last time it was even used. Maybe when Momma had made that pathetic attempt at raising a garden. She had wanted them to eat healthier, and so had their dad. It was supposed to be some fresh new start for them all. That's what this house was supposed to be; a new setting, away from their past crime ridden neighborhood. But instead of a stable new structure, this seemed more flimsy than the one before, Mikey's and Gerard's world crumbling into glass shards. And whenever the two had even attempted to intervene, to help, to do something, they would get stung with those sharp glittering weapons. 

And Gerard, Mikey supposes, finally just got tired of sweeping up the pieces of this mess that was life. 

Mikey sighs in disappointment. Disappointment of how things had reached this point, the point of murdering an innocent. All for some stability back into their life. 

Mikey decides that they shouldn't think about this anymore. All this will do is keep Mikey at home longer, and will just prolong the amount of time they have before they see their brother.

So with that, Mikey stands up, and spits on the ground like some kind of cowboy. They carry the shovel in one hand, and the other opens the door.

And with that, Mikey flees into the night. Towards the cemetary, towards Gerard, towards an uncertain future.

And away from the last bit of sanity Mikey had gripped and desperately clung onto for the past three years.

x x x x x x

The digging had taken forever. About fourty-five minutes or so.

The spell, with extreme hesitation from Mikey, had taken about ten. 

And it took only five minutes for Pete to arrive after the clock had hit twelve.

Mikey had hidden the shovel in the large pile of dirt right by Gerard's grave.

"Hey Mikey--"

"Did you bring your knife?"

Pete sighs, and reluctantly takes out the sharp object from an obsurdly large backpack.

"What's with the bag?"

Mikey asks curiously.

"Bleeding out takes a little bit, ya know? So I brought some somewhat enjoyable and decently productive things to do while I wait for the reaper to come for me."

"Wouldn't it come faster depending how deep you slice?"

"Well yeah but... I'm a bit scared, ya know? I might not get it deep enough on my first try. I want my last moments on this Earth to be decently alright, and not just sitting around drowning in gloom and with anxiety filled thoughts buzzing around annoyingly. What's with this grave man? Why is it all dug up and shit?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a recent funeral or something like that. Or maybe there's some sick necrophiliac roaming around the cemetary."

"Well that's not assuring at all. I don't want some sicko messing around with my dead body after I finally die. Ugh."

Mikey laughs dryly,

"Yeah. Let's just hope for the best. You wanna sit down?"

"Sure."

The two sit in a position where their feet dangle above the casket.

Pete sighs,

"I wonder who this person was. What their life was like."

"You know you can look at the stone and see who it is, right?"

"Well yeah but... A name is just a name. It doesn't define who a person is, ya know? I'm talking about like, who this body was as a person. What did they like? Were they nice? What would they think of the world on this very day? Would they even have a good day?"

Mikey wistfully stares into space,

"I bet they were pretty damn rad."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm just getting that kind of vibe,"

Mikey snaps out of their dreary state, and abruptly states,

"Let's just get this over with. I'll go first, and then I'll hand you the knife back."

"Alright... give me a second. I want to take a sip of wine. I took my mom's good one, the one that costs like a hundred fucking dollars."

And Pete takes his backpack off, and unzips it. He takes out an almost full bottle of red wine, and a cork opener. Within a couple of minutes, he's chugging down the bottle. Mikey can see some tears just barely making it out of Pete's eyes. 

And Mikey can't help but stare at Pete's very sparkly dark eyes. They're as vast as a black hole, yet they're as warm as a hot cup of coffee. They hold so much depth, and emotion, and fuck, Mikey wishes they could feel as many emotions as Pete. They wish they could feel at all, so they could say 'fuck this plan' and just spend some nice time in Pete's company.

"You want a drink?"

Pete asks, voice cracking. They can tell that Pete is on the verge of sobbing, and its quite the heartbreaking sight to see.

"Sure,"

Mikey says, taking the bottle from Pete's hands. They take a deep swig, letting the terrible aftertaste make their throat bitter. 

"Here,"

Pete mumbles, trading the bottle for the knife.

Mikey analyzes the knife. It's a decently large knife, one that you would find in one of those fancy kitchen knife sets. It's as tall as Mikey's head, and as sharp as a warrior's sword. 

They gulp, and bring the knife close to their wrist, hovering right above the skin. They close their eyes, and make a light slash. 

The pain makes Mikey cry out, and they open their eyes, seeing blood flow from their left wrist. 

"My turn,"

Pete says bluntly, setting the bottle next to him. He snatches the knife from Mikey, and with only a slight groan, he makes a deep cut on his wrist. It surprises Mikey when Pete mumbles,

"Not deep enough, damn it."

And so, Pete makes another four cuts, all as deep or even more than the first.

"There,"

Pete says breathlessly, taking another drink of the bottle. 

Mikey can only stare in shock at how effortlessly Pete seemed to do that.

"I've done it multiple times. Cut. Not nearly this deep obviously but, yeah. I used to think pain made me feel alive. But I was so wrong. God, I was so fucking wrong. And this, this is so fucking wrong too. The only things giving me comfort right now are this bottle, the letters I wrote in my backpack, and you. Fuck Mikey, you never talk about how you feel that much. What are you thinking? Are you scared, or happy, or what?"

"I'm..."

Mikey chooses their words carefully,

"... At peace I suppose. Finally I'll get some quiet."

"Oh. Well that's good. Better than freaking out I suppose."

"Are you freaking out?"

"Just a bit. I don't know what's after this... I don't know if my mom is right about the afterlife, or if there's nothing, or if some other religion is correct. I'm just... so terrified. I really don't want it to be my mom's version of heaven. Because then, I'm apparently bound for hell."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm bi. And I guess anyone who likes people of their same gender goes to hell."

"That's so bullshit though."

"Right? But what if they ARE right? What if I'm going to hell?"

"Then you probably will find some hot people in hell. And you'll fuck them all and sin like you're the devil, because it's not like anyone gives a fuck anymore."

Pete chuckles sadly,

"But the thing for me is that sex isn't some thing to throw around. I feel like it should be important, like something you do with someone you honestly love. I've never felt true genuine love for anyone before. I've never had sex, oral or up the ass or in the vagina. I've never been in a relationship in general. Hell, I've never even kissed anyone. This is partially because of my mom's strict rules about dating, and also my personal shyness--- shit, I'm probably irritating you like I did a few days ago. I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now."

"No, it's okay Pete. We're dying anyway... so fuck it. It's honestly okay if you ramble and rant."

Mikey is pondering what has just been revealed to them. Pete's never been in a relationship, or kissed anyone? They were taking more experiences from them then they had originally thought.

And as Pete rambles and drinks and rambles some more, Mikey wants to do something crazy. Obsurd. Totally stupid.

They want to kiss Pete.

It's the least they could do, leave him with some kind of positive experience and memory as he takes his final breaths, and says his last words.

"Hey Pete? I... I want to ask you something..."

Mikey mumbles.

"Shoot."

"So you remember how you talked about how you've never been kissed before?"

"Yeah?"

"Well... umm... shit, can I kiss you? I hate to think that you'll never be able to experience that and... Fuck, I feel so awkward."

"So it's a pity kiss?"

"No... I just... I just want you to know what it feels like..."

Pete glances away, looking in the direction of another grave. Mikey can see more tears trailing down his cheeks, and his hand covers his mouth, possibly to keep from sobbing.

"Pete? You don't have to if you don't---"

But Mikey is interrupted by a hard kiss. The moment was already intense, but this just makes it all so much worse. This makes Mikey's emotions about Pete so much more complex than just a 'murder victim'. Pete is a human being, an attractive one at that, and from the desperation in the kiss, the fiery heat of it all, Mikey can read that this is what Pete has been craving. Some kind of affection, or love, or reassurance. 

Mikey's senses are exploding with every little touch given. It's as if Pete has actually done this before as he cups Mikey's face with the hand that has a bleeding wrist. And maybe there's blood getting on both of them, and maybe they just don't give a damn.

Mikey forgets about the reason why they're even there in the first place; why this exchange is even happening. 

The two lose themselves in the kiss, the passion extreme from the empathy of finding someone just like them; fucked up, with issues and severly swinging mixed up emotions. Sweet desperation comes off in a sweaty stench, and for the moment, they all seem to forget that the world around them is breaking apart. 

And even though Pete knows he's dying, god damn, he's surprisingly never felt more alive.

x x x x x x

Mikey lost track of time awhile ago.

What they do know though, is that Pete is close to death.

They're laying on the grass, just looking into each others eyes. Mikey can see how pale Pete is starting to become, how heavy his breathing is getting. How weak he is, and how slurred his words are. 

And it may just cause Mikey to cry. Because maybe they don't want to do this damn ritual anymore. Gerard had chosen death already, and the only reason Pete is doing the same is because they fucking manipulated him.

"M-m-mikey... I'm getting tired... and cold... can you like... cuddle me please?"

"Sure, Pete,"

Mikey's voice wavers. 

Mikey wraps their arm around Pete, and holds him practically suffocatingly close. 

"Can we j-j-just gotosleep or something-g-g."

"Of course we can Pete. Whatever you want,"

The two of them close their eyes, and the last thing Mikey remembers Pete saying is this;

"Mikey Way, you're somethingelse, aren't you? Nothuman... something beautiful. You're so beautiful, youknowthat? God, thankyou for being here with me... thank you..."

x x x x x x

When Mikey wakes up, they're in someone's lap. 

Not Pete's though. And when they glance up, they at first believe that their eyes are decieving them.  
It's their long dead brother, Gerard. But something is wrong with Gerard. 

He's covered in blood, from his mouth and face, and it's splattered all over his once pristine white button up shirt. His eyes aren't the same; they're bright red. 

Mikey scans the scene, and realizes that both Pete and his pack are long gone. 

Mikey then glances back up at Gerard, who's staring into space. They're shocked when Gerard says, voice dry and strained,

"Why Mikey? Why?"

And there's so many ways Mikey could interpret that 'why'. Why is Gerard alive again? Why does Mikey have a slit wrist? Why is the world as cruel as it is?

But all Mikey can do is shrug, because they would rather not explain everything to Gerard right now.

And besides the fact that they didn't want to, they have some weird feeling that Gerard already knew all of the possible answers to the vague question he asked. Maybe it was said to break the silence.

Or maybe it was said because Gerard had no idea what the literal fuck else to say to his sibling that he hadn't had spoken to in three years, and to be honest, he's trying to comprehend twenty million things at once, putting together old dusty cords in his brain and trying to think for the first time in a long time.

And Gerard thinks that Mikey is probably disappointed with that being his first words since being risen from the dead.

What Gerard doesn't know is that no matter how simple the sentence could've been, or how complex it should've been, it was still better than the silence that Mikey had dealt with for years.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a rather heated argument takes place.

The two siblings don't say another word as they walk towards the place they call home. 

Mikey because they honestly don't want to. They don't want to fret about the aftermath, the reality of this situation, crashing in like waves of the ocean. Also, they really don't want to know why Gerard is covered in blood, and maybe somewhere deep inside of them they really do know why, but denial is a rather strong thing, warping Mikey's brain and making them think that everything is just normal. Their brain is trying to make them erase the embedded image of Gerard's dead body, the splattered guts, the disfigured face. It's trying to make Mikey believe that Gerard has really been alive, maybe off chasing a dead dream, or going to college, or something totally utterly normal.

But Mikey knows that none of those logical explanations can explain this scene occuring between the two. 

Gerard observes the scene around him. Three years gone seems like a long time, yet everything looks the exact same. The dead trees soar high above the ground, scraping and tearing open dark dreary night skies. The same crooked and mishapen houses lined the streets, their paint still peeling, weeds still growing, cars still old and seconds from breaking down. The only difference is that everything seems a little sharper, a little more detailed, as if he was holding a camera and zooming in on things. He could focus on a speck of dust, floating from one place to another, and he could focus on a singular mosquito, darting back and forth, buzzing like mad, trying to find food. A storm is about to come, and Gerard can feel it in the way the harsh breeze blows, and in the way the sky seems to move, fast, as if it was trying to run away from him.

Gerard wouldn't be surprised if the sky really was running away from him. Hell, he's shocked that Mikey hasn't sprinted off. But then again, they did SOMETHING to bring him back. Maybe they knew that he would end up like this. But why would Mikey bring him back if they had known that he would become a monster? Is it some kind of revenge since he basically abandoned them? Gerard wouldn't blame them if it was indeed that, he did feel like he deserved every bit of whatever the hell this is.

Coming back to life is a blurry series of snapshots, and sudden noises, and a really fierce pain that shot up his entire body, enveloping and engulfing him like some supermassive black hole. 

He remembers forcing himself to breathe, gasping in the cold dusty air. His eyes had opened up, and analyzed every speck of dust gathering in the corners, every cobweb, the specific shades of brown that the coffin was (It was a chestnut color, he decided). There was a moment of peace, but then of course, came panic, and the sensation of feeling shredded through him like he was merely paper. And he was in scraps, scraps that couldn't and shouldn't be coming back together, but yet they were. 

Then, there was the thirst.

It clawed inside his throat, and he at first thought it was the lack of air, that his lungs were giving out on him. 

Next thing he knows, he's outside, with splinters in his hands and blood coating his skin. But he couldn't feel the physical pain from thst, all he could feel was this uncaged monster ravaging through his throat. He needed water, or milk, or juice, or soda, or SOMETHING.  

Then, his eyes landed on Mikey and Pete, laying side by side at his grave. Pete was obviously dead, and Mikey was sleeping. Both of them had large cuts on their wrists.

Gerard was, and is, very ashamed to admit that his first instinct wasn't to worry about his injured sibling, or his friend. It was hunger, it was feeding, it blocked out all logic and all other human emotion. 

But something in him did make him not feed on his sibling. He is absolutely grateful for that, that even on an uncontrollable impulse, he would never hurt Mikey. 

Everything after that is just fast flashes, bright and vibrant, molding into one very gory (yet oddly euphoric) experience. After regaining control of himself, Gerard found that he was covered, head to toe, in Pete's blood. Pete layed out in front of him, throat torn, head practically decapitated. Him and the corpse weren't by Mikey anymore, they were in a nearby park. 

Gerard knew he had to do something with the body. He decided to take Pete to a forest, and stage an animal attack of some sort. He'd thought it'd take about 20 minutes to get there on foot, but it seemed to take only seconds. Maybe it was adrenaline, or maybe his mind was too busy spinning to actually comprehend his settings. 

He ran, deep into the forest, and finally came to what seemed like a good spot. He set Pete down, sprawled him out a bit. He took a branch, and made some defensive looking wounds on his arms.

After that, he left. But not without picking a dandelion, and laying it down near Pete in respect. No one would notice that, if the body is found. It's just a dandelion, a weed, there's many of them scattered around the forest, one could've easily been smashed on or cut off by some other animal.

Finally, he had found himself back in the cemetary, cradling Mikey in his arms, sighing, and just thinking 'why?'. Over and over again, repeating itself, carving itself into him, permanently, like some kind of tattoo. 

And when he felt Mikey glance up at him with innocent doe-like eyes, he knew he had to say something. So he croaked out the one solid word that was haunting his brain like some kind of restless spirit. Why. And even though he knew Mikey couldn't possibly answer his question, he just really had to get it out there, out of his brain. He had to say something to actually comprehend that he's conscious and talking, and fucking alive. 

And now we've reached present time, in a peaceful moment, in the calm before the shit goes down and everything falls apart as fast and as easy as it came together. 

"So, what have I missed?"

Gerard's voice rings in the silent night, and Mikey continues to stare straight ahead as they respond,

"A lot. So fucking much."

"Like?"

"I can't describe the past three years simply to you Gerard. Not in some short and sweet way that I know you're hoping for."

"I don't want it short and sweet. I want every miniscule detail, every grueling tidbit. The small things and the big things, and everything in between."

"Well, I can't really describe it in that detailed of a way either..."

"Then just... talk about it to the best of your ability."

"I'm just going to say that my perspective on life has changed rather drastically since you died."

"Oh. How?"

Mikey glares at Gerard, and chuckles bitterly,

"Well, how do you honestly think?"

Gerard stares at Mikey's stiff posture, the cold look in his eyes, the way his words were spit out and the impression those had in the air around them. Finally, he concludes,

"It seems as if they weren't good at all. You've... become pessimistic and utterly hopeless."

"If by pessimistic and hopeless you mean having developed a spiraling depression, then yes, I suppose you're correct."

"Your wrist was slit when I first saw you ... please tell me you don't self harm..."

"Today was the first time I did it, and the only reason why I did it was because it was part of my plan to kill Pete and bring you back. I manipulated him, told him it was a pact, but the only one who was really going to die was him."

And with the callous manner the words are said, Gerard can't even recognize his sibling anymore. He just looks at them, shocked. It's a slap in the face, a punch in the gut, a choking suffocating feeling that seems to paralyze his entire body. And even though Gerard had literally torn the kid's throat out, that was for hunger... which, is much more justifiable in Gerard's opinion. Plus, he was already dead when it happened.

To find that the cause of the death was his sibling is unbelievable. 

"Mikey..."

Gerard barely gets out, his body quivering, eyes wide, hands clammy, and acting like a total nervous fucking wreck.

"What? Don't give me shit! What's the difference between this and what you did? We both cut lives short, why am I the bad one here?"

"There is a clear fucking difference here. My life was meant to end. This kid's life obviously wasn't. You told him to kill himself, and watched him slowly bleed out and die. It's fucking disgusting in every degree."

"But you weren't meant to die either Gerard! That's why I brought you back!"

"I had made my choice though. I'm sorry for it, but I did. I meant to kill myself. Pete hadn't, he had a fucking shot at doing something with his life and you took it away."

"That choice could've changed! You could've gotten better--"

"But I didn't. You're missing my entire point. Can you at least fucking admit that it was a shitty thing to do?"

Mikey doesn't say a single word, and just keeps walking. Gerard stops in his tracks, and spits,

"Mikey, you seriously can't actually believe what you did was justifiable, can you?"

"Shut up Gerard! Honestly, just shut the fuck up!" 

Mikey yells, the weight of the world finally starting to crush their tough exterior.

"You didn't answer my question..."

"I originally thought it was, okay? Fine, I was wrong, I'm so fucking sorry, what the hell is this going to do to change anything? To change these circumstances? Nothing. It's just going to make me feel worse in the end."

"Numbing yourself doesn't do shit, let yourself feel remorse and regret."

"Why should I even listen to you anyways?"

Now Mikey is getting a little hysterical, forgetting the entire reason why they brought their brother back in the first place,

"You've made everything go to shit! Everything! All because you were too fucking weak to cope with shit! Why should I listen to a god damn word you say, you'll just make me feel worse, because that's what you always do. For the last three years, that's what you've been doing."

"I didn't mean to--"

"Of course you didn't! Of fucking course!"

Mikey, in angst, kicks a stray pebble and rambles some more,

"Just fuck off Gerard, honestly just fuck the hell off."

"Is that why you brought me back? Just so you could remind me how much of a shitty person I am?"

With that, the tension breaks like ice, exploding into glittery pieces. The light reflecting off these pieces shines in Gerard's eyes as he begins to tear up. But they're tinted with scarlet, for you see, Gerard now cries blood. 

Mikey bites their tongue when they see how disraught Gerard is. Red ink leaks down Gerard's cheek, drawing a picture of sadness and despair.

"Shit, no--"

"You only brought me back for yourself. Not for anyone else, not because you really give a shit about me as a person--"

"No! That's not true, I swear--"

"Bullshit."

With that, Gerard storms away, dark tears flowing like rivers, and splatting against the pavement, staining the concrete.  
With every drop of blood lost, Gerard gets more and more thirsty.

So Gerard speeds off into the night, looking for more to drink, leaving Mikey baffled and upset on the sidewalk.

And Mikey is trying to understand the notion that they may have just lost their brother again. Except this time, there is no chance of coming back, no leaving on good terms, no possibility of healing. Nothing.

The wind howls ferociously, and Mikey just stands still, letting it run through their hair, and chill their skin to the bone. And god damn, at the moment, they would give anything to just have the wind sweep them up like dust and blow them away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since Gerard has been brought back, and things have changed drastically with his relationship with Mikey. Meanwhile, karma kicks some bully's asses, and the characters Frank, Otep, and Ray are introduced.

It's been one month.

One month since Gerard rose from the dead. One month since he left Mikey, and decided with certainty to never go back. One month since Pete has been killed.

One month since Gerard stopped feeling anything.

He didn't care about the lives he snatched away. His hunger, his survival, is now his number one priority. Nothing and no one tops that on his list of importance.

He doesn't know how he pulls it off, how he's able to lure people so easily to their deaths. Maybe there is some kind of allure, something attractive and magnet-like about being a vampire. Something that makes him stick out of the crowd like an ugly bruise. 

He didn't sparkle, which disappointed him a little bit at first. But then he realized that sparkling in the sun is pathetic. Twilight's entire portrayal of vampires was fucking pathetic. It made them look like they were people too, except for the sucking blood part. But the truth, Gerard has found, is that he is nothing like humans. Sure he looks like one; same structure, same speech patterns, same quirks and habits. But he was just as different as an alien from outer space. This outer part was just a facade, a mask, something to hide behind. 

He'll sometimes have conversations with people, when it's necessary. And he'll hear about their problems, whether it be problems at home, or work, or lovers, or drugs. He'll just listen and ponder how truly small it really is in the grand scale of things, how later, this problem will just be a tiny blip in their lives full of rainbow blasting lights and loud chaotic noise. 

All he does is observe, make unnecessary notes, think, and feed. This is all his life is, and sure at times it can feel a little tedious and repetitive, but the hunt and the kill make everything worthwhile. He enjoys being the predator, instead of being the prey. He gets high off of it, and as long as he has some kind of happiness, some thing to look forward to, he's alright mentally. He hasn't thought of a single self destructive thing since the night he became a vampire; one fucking month ago. 

Sometimes while hunting, he'll hear Mikey calling for him. Searching the streets, and the neighborhoods, buildings small and tall. Shady places, squeaky clean places, interviewing people of all different backgrounds. 

There has been a few times that Mikey has been foolish with who they interview. They'll talk to someone notorious and dangerous, someone who'll kill them if they prod too much. Gerard has had to save their stupid ass on multiple occasions; and he regrets it. He hates his sibling; hates them with every fiber in their being. The bitterness burns strong every time he even sees the dude. 

He can tell that Mikey is self destructing. It's obviously evident on the way they carry themselves; fidgety, frail, like a withering old man. They cover their sleeves, even when it's decently warm outside. Their eyes are broken, seemingly unrepairable, constantly shining with the threat of tears spilling. And maybe Gerard would give a shit, if he hadn't had lost himself so long ago. 

Maybe he would give a shit if Mikey wasn't such a selfish dick. And maybe, just maybe, Gerard thinks they're getting exactly what they deserve.

Gerard is currently wandering outside the high school, watching as the students filter out, shouting and laughing. Their joy and excitement, the rage and revenge, the sadness and despair, it radiates off of them in waves. Waves that threaten to smash Gerard's numb barriers, because maybe secretly he does crave for something normal like that. For some friends, for a productive future, for classes and learning. For things to dread, for things to live for. 

He craves a life. And maybe the reason he loves draining it from innocents is because for that moment, he does feel alive. He feels like he's sucking their essence away, their energy, their everything. Absorbing it really, letting it sink into his dormant organs and pulse through him, humming like the noise from concerts. 

He wishes he could feel like that all the time. It's a longing that's stemmed from his life before this. 

Gerard feels a tear coming on, and quickly wipes it away. He continues walking on the sidewalk, scanning over the scene. His eyes land on a tussle; four students, one of them getting pummeled by two of them. The other stands and watches. Not sadistically, more bystander like. He occasionally cheers and encourages his cruel friends, but it doesn't feel genuine. It feels pressured and stiff.

The face looks utterly familiar, and as Gerard feels himself gravitating towards the spot, he identifies who it is; it's his sibling's friend, Ray. 

What had happened in the last few years that made him fall into the crowd with these scumbags? 

Gerard can now hear insults being thrown; the stereotypical 'faggot' and 'waste of space'. Other things are being thrown as well, 'freak's and 'you don't deserve to live' and 'why don't you just go kill yourself'. The victim of this beating and impulsive insults just lays on the ground, not screaming, not whining or begging. He just stares at the three of them blankly, and sure there are some liquid tracks on his cheeks, but there is no other evidence of emotion or fear.

And something about this scene strikes a chord with Gerard; it is utterly familiar, for you see, he at one point has experienced this very thing himself. History is repeating itself, except now it's with these kids, and not him. Maybe the world may learn from its past, somewhat, but the high schools are always a place where you can count on people to always and continuously treat you like shit, regardless of past events.  

Empathy makes him shiver; it is the first emotion he has felt in a long time. 

The two boys fighting the smaller one finally give up on getting a reaction out of him; they let him go. The small one limps away, and into a friend's arms.

Gerard's presence is noticed by Ray; his eyes bulge wide, and they're wiped multiple times. Gerard's pace quickens, and almost immediately, he's right by the trio. Gerard pretends Ray doesn't exist for a few moments, and turns his attention towards the other two;

"Excuse me, were you just beating up that kid over there?"

The big hulking one of the two responds. He's got pale paper like skin, spiky ginger hair, and dark, almost black, beady eyes,

"Little freak Iero? Yeah. Why?"

"That's what I was just about to ask you. Why did you beat him up?" 

"The true question here,"

The other one comments,

"Is why wouldn't we?"

He's thin and tall, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes that practically pierce right through you. 

The two of them laugh, and Ray cracks a forced smile. Gerard can tell that Ray is still trying to take it all in, his ex friend's undead brother standing in front of him.

"Oh I don't know, because he's a human being with feelings? You do realize how much destruction you're causing him, right? And you're proud about that?"

"Fuck yeah we are,"

Ginger head chuckles.

Gerard shakes his head in disgust, narrowing his eyes at the two guys,

"Do you get high off of the feeling of destroying innocents?"

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

Blonde guy asks, squaring his shoulders and trying to look tough. So they're not just bullies, Gerard realizes, they're neanderthals too. 

In a slow tone, emphasizing each word, as if he was talking to a toddler, Gerard asks,

"Do you get joy out of hurting people?"

Ray is practically gasping for air, and he's waiting for Gerard to acknowledge him, to say anything directed towards him. The anxiety is practically killing him. He hates to be ignored, and he knows that he deserves this scolding just as much as the other two do. He's just as much of a monster. The only difference is that he's self aware.

Gerard glances at Ray, then back at the other two boys, who are scratching their heads and contemplating how exactly to respond to that. They don't want to admit it; no one ever does. But once you're self aware, you can change your ways. Ginger and Curly are too stupid, Gerard quickly realizes, to ever comprehend the damage they cause. 

And so with that, Gerard snarls,

"Your time is up." 

He snatches Curly and Ginger by the shirt collar, and they both screech in fear. Before speeding off into the unknown however, Gerard finally does say something to Ray,

"Well hello Ray. Long time no see."

Before Ray can even begin annunciating a response, Gerard disappears, and the last thing Ray hears is the screams of his friends, gone as fast as they appeared. 

That blurry moving speck is the last time Ray will ever see the two boys alive.

x x x x x x

"Well would you look at that? My death note actually worked! How wonderful!"

Frank Iero and his best friend Otep Shamaya sit in Frank's basement, watching the local news. Jason and Freddy, Frank's bullies, have been found practically ripped to shreds in the lake outside of town. The shots show a once crystal clear blue lake, tinted with scarlet red ink, bleeding through the surface, staining everything in it. The rest of the scene is blurred; all that's shown of the bodies are the bags they're now in.

Otep is elated, while Frank just stares at the screen in shock and utter disbelief.

"Why aren't you excited Frank? You don't have to deal with them anymore!"

"They're still people Otep. It's not right,"

Frank sighs, peeling his eyes off of the screen to glance at the girl.  
She has extremely short blonde hair. It'd be a buzz cut if she didn't have swooping bangs, long enough to slash her crystal-like teal eyes' vision. She has black lipstick and heavy eyeliner, and is wearing an ensemble of different punk-ish clothes all in different shades of black. 

The two of them became good friends because of their many similarities; both are vegetarians, both love punk music, and oh yeah; both of them are gay as fuck.

But both are different enough to have interesting conversations.  
Otep believes in witchcraft and magic, and she's practices it actively. Rumors float around that Otep worships Satan and can put curses on you, which is why in a strictly Catholic town like this, everyone fears and stays around from her. Even though that isn't true, well the Satan part anyway, Otep likes it like that.  
Frank is a huge conspiracist, and is a huge believer in aliens. He doesn't trust the government at all, and constantly describes his theories to Otep. Sometimes she'll argue that they're total nonsense. But sometimes, Frank does make a hell of a lot of sense, and she'll agree, adding theories of her own to the mix. 

He has photographs of UFOs and sketches of aliens taped and pinned all over his room. His window is always open, and a telescope just slightly edges out to the outside. Next to that is a bunch of fraying old notebooks, piles of messy ripped papers and broken pencils. Books cram a looming bookshelf, all of various genres and topics. 

His room is more like a nook then it is a room. Otep doesn't like its messiness; it irritates her to no end, to the point where she literally can't focus on anything else but the chaos that is Frank's room.

Frank thinks it has a homey warm quality to it.

Which is why, when the duo hangs out at Frank's house, they chill in the basement. 

"It's all karma. For their many bad deeds, this is what consequences they received for it. It's all justified. I'm glad this happened. You won't be stressed anymore."

"Just because my bullies are gone, doesn't mean I won't still feel like shit all the time. Plus Ray is still alive, what if he still does things to me?"

"He never hit me as the type to beat on you. I think he's just a coward. A follower. A lost soul, with nowhere to go to. He needs a good influence to get him back on track. His personality is practically swept away, cleaned out. He's like a puppet. Someone needs to cut the strings instead of manipulating and controlling him more."

Frank stares back at the TV, nodding silently in agreement. Otep is better at reading people than him. Every time Frank's gotten a boyfriend, he introduces him to her. She'll tell him if she senses something off. And usually she's right. 

"What if their killer isn't something human?" 

Frank mumbles. 

Otep laughs, 

"What the hell could it be then, Mulder? Please enlighten me."

"Just hear me out, okay? The way that blood is spread out, all along the trees and in the river... there's no way a human could do that much damage and make that much of a mess."

"That's why there's things called chainsaws and axes. Duh." 

"I just... I just have a feeling," 

Frank says,

"Something isn't quite right here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Frank meet for the first time. Ray is interrogated about his asshole friends' disappearances. Mikey has somewhat of a breakdown.

Gerard gets a kick out of watching the police try to discover what's going on. All of their false theories and innocent suspects. It's funny, hilarious. It causes Gerard to chuckle as he spies on the crime scene he created.

People are crying, cameras are flashing, sirens are whirring, pencils are being scribbled, eyes are carefully analyzing, and the casual quiet of the forest is being destroyed by a catharsis of noise.

He's hidden in the trees, and he's just thinking about how they'll all go through so much work to find a killer, and then they'll eventually reach a dead end. Because honestly, who would suspect and convict a dead man? No one. 

Gerard isn't hungry, he's oddly content. So he just continues watching as the commotion dies down, the people leave, and all that's left is a bloody lake and yellow crime tape.

He lounges back against the tree branch, just staring at the sky. His brain is fixated on one point at the moment. One name, or last name for the matter.

Iero

That's all he really knew about the boy he killed for, but nonetheless, it still intrigued him. They were alike, in that way. He could understand Gerard's pain about being bullied. About wanting to take a stand. About wanting to annihilate and destroy and wanting to finally have power for once. He would get him. 

That would be a pleasant change.

Gerard's buzzing thoughts are interrupted by a rustling coming down from below. His head snaps to the noise's source, and his eyes focus in on the exact person he was just thinking about. 

Well speak of the devil and he shall appear

Gerard thinks. He watches Iero curiously as the small guy shuffles into the crime scene, going under the yellow barrier. A large bulky camera hangs around his neck, and a notebook is tightly gripped in his hand. Gerard can smell the stench of anxiety and fear coming off of him. 

"Shit!" 

Iero mumbles under his breath. He shivers as he stuffs his notebook back into his backpack. He must've forgotten a writing utensil, Gerard hypothesizes.

Iero takes off his pack and starts snapping pictures. A lot of the evidence was collected by the officers, but there are some things that they didn't quite catch.

Such as the fact that the crime scene is not just this small square of space; rather, it was miles and miles across the forest. Gerard hadn't just killed these boys. He ripped them up, played with them like toys. Jump roped with their intestines, scooped out their eyes and ate them like ice cream, threw them around like rag dolls. Ripped them into pieces and then stitched them back together. This wasn't just for hunger purposes like his past killings, this was for his own satisfaction as well. He wanted to obliterate and destroy those pathetic excuses of human beings. He wanted revenge, as if these were the same people that caused his own past self destruction, the ones who lit his old fuse and watched him explode into glittery gory pieces. 

The police only saw empty eye sockets, and only saw the tragic end of boys whom had 'bright futures' and were 'good kids'. They were so blind, so fucking blind. It was as if they were the ones with their eyes ripped out. 

Iero, Gerard observes, isn't like them at all. He knows the true nature of those boys, how cruel and merciless they were. He is also smart enough to understand that this isn't a typical murder, that something strange happened here. Something defintely out of the ordinary. 

Gerard is currently trying to decide if Iero came out of the kindness of his heart and need for justice, or if he's just too damn curious for his own good. Probably the latter, because honestly, why would someone want justice for their bullies when it technically was already served?

Iero strolls along the path, and takes more pictures, zooming the lense in and out, taking them all at different angles and positions. Trying to put the pieces together, like a puzzle. What the hell happened here, and why?

Suddenly, Iero's head darts around, and eye contact is made between the two guys.

"You killed them, didn't you?"

Gerard doesn't respond, he just continues staying absolutely still. 

\- - - - - -

Frank continues to stare at the red eyes that are glaring at him. They're human-like. Contacts, maybe. Or maybe they're not. Maybe they're something else, a different creature. A new species.

Or maybe its an extraterrestrial. 

"Just going to sit there and not talk, eh? Fine. Lets start off with some simple questions. What is your name? Or what are you called?"

The being with the red eyes doesn't twitch or move; it doesn't make a single noise. No muttering, no groaning, no animalistic shrieks or attempts to communicate. It just sits in silence. Like Frank's shitty car, which had it's radio stolen just a few months ago. To be fair, it was a pretty rad sound system, and he totally understands why someone stole it.

"Fine, I'll go first, if it makes you feel comfortable. My name is Frank. Frank Iero."

The being bursts out into laughter, which startles Frank. It sounds like jingling bells, and it's honestly kind of a pretty sound.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that Frank? You just waltz on out here, with no weapon, no flashlight, no way of protecting yourself. Then you come face to face with a murderer and try to introduce yourself nicely?! Like, what the actual fuck? You're literally the embodiment of horror movie cliche. Imagine how it'd look if I went up to Michael Myers and was like 'Well hello there sir, lovely day outside isn't it?'. It's pure utter stupidity. You're gonna get yourself killed with that kind of mindset, kid."

Frank actually finds himself giggling to the sudden and blunt response he recieved,

"Wow. Thanks asshole."

But before he could further engage in conversation, he reminds himself that this thing is a killer. Sure it has a sense of humor, but it is still, nonetheless, a murderer. And it also, nonetheless, could possibly not be human.

"So you did kill Jason and Freddy?"

"Sure, you can say that."

"Why?"

The being hops off the branch its perched on, and starts to make it's way over to Frank. Which is absolutely terrifying, and Frank finds himself backing up until he backs up into a tree. This amuses the thing, and as Frank's vision somewhat adjusts, he can make out some features. It has an oval face, and pale skin. Blood red lips that go with it's gory clothes. It's got a smirk on it's face, and soon, it's in Frank's personal bubble, looming over him, breath reeking of iron and decay. 

"Now, why must there always be a motive? Why can't there just be someone who people just accept as a cold heartless monster? Why must there always be a trigger, a kick, a reason for becoming sick?"

Frank is quivering, and every bit of his body feels like its freezing, and he just barely gets out,

"Because the human mind is much more complex than that. Nothing is ever so simple."

"Ah, so I see. So, if everything is so complex, why did you come out here tonight?"

"You answer my question first,"

Frank pouts.

"Well you see Frank, I can't answer your question. You said the human brain is complex, correct? Well, I'm not necessarily human. I have no motive for my crime. I'm just damn sick in the head, a sick monster. You should probably fucking go before I kill you too."

With that threat, Frank decides to save his questions and prodding for another day, or another time where he isn't so vulnerable, 

"Umm.... B-b-but I can't get out currently, you're kind of blocking my way."

The being smiles, and steps out of Frank's way,

"There. Just follow the dusty path that way. Or just run shrieking in terror into the trees. Whichever you prefer."

\- - - - - -

Gerard watches as Frank Iero runs out into the trees, but without making a single panicking sound. He's slow and not fit, and if Gerard wasn't so fascinated with the guy, he would've chased him, and drained him. Pursued him like predator to a prey.

Frank did a pretty good job at pissing Gerard off and pressing his buttons. 

Gerard doesn't want to think about the whys or hows or anything behind his madness. He just wants to live in the moment and embrace it like a long lost  friend. It's all he really has left. If he begins to regret his actions, then his sorrow and despair will come back, and feelings were never Gerard's favorite things. All they do is drag him down, down into his personal hell with his inner demons and ticking time bomb of a past self. 

He's gotta forget about all of that, everything about being human and everything about caring. 

But god damn it, Gerard thinks, why must it all be so hard?

x x x x x x

Ray Toro is being interviewed at the police station. Being the last one who saw Jason and Freddy alive, he was the prime suspect in the investigation, even though he hasn't done that much bad shit in his past. At least, nothing to this extent.

"So,"

Police officer Jinxx says, smacking bubble gum,

"You say you saw Gerard Way dragging Jason and Fredrick to the woods?"

"Yes."

"Sir, you do know that Gerard Way is deceased, right?"

"I know but... I swear to god, it was him. He even acknowledged me, said hello and used my name and shit."

"Are you sure this wasn't another student at yout school that happened to look like Gerard?"

Ray knows it was Gerard. He could sense it in his demeanor, his appearance, his voice. It most definitely was him, and there's nothing anyone can do to change his mind. But Ray knows that if he tries to argue about this any longer, about seeing a dead man take away his friends, he knows he'll look crazy, and very guilty.

So, with a sigh, Ray lies,

"Maybe it was a different dude... I'm not sure... fuck. I'm still sad over what happened to Gerard, ya know? There will be people in school that have his same hairstyle, or same mannerisms, and I'll be honestly convinced that I saw him, when I didn't. Just another hallucination, another false hope or false dream."

Officer Jinxx gives Ray a sympathetic smile, and says,

"Right, I understand. What happened to Gerard was terrible. He was such a nice guy. I understand why you may still be grieving over him."

Ray just nods and stares into empty space, still trying to soak in the situation he's now stuck in. 

"Listen Ray, if I bring in a sketch artist, lets say tomorrow, do you think you could describe the suspect you saw drag your friends away?"

"Of course."

"Alright. I just have one more question for you, and then I'll let you be on your way."

"Okay, what is it?"

"Why did you let the suspect take your friends? Why didn't you try to fight him?"

To be honest, it's a combination of things for Ray. One, was that his friends were shitty people. The only reason he was even friends with them was so others would get intimidated and not push him around anymore. Two, he couldn't fight Gerard. He couldn't fight his old best friend's brother. Especially because he was so kind to Ray before he died. To be honest, he's probably the sweetest person Ray has ever known. 

But there's also the fact that Gerard was just too damn fast for Ray to even attempt catching up to.

"I... I'm not sure. I thought it was just a small fight, another thing they could take care of. I started to walk away, but when I turned back sometime later, they were being dragged off. I was too far to do anything... Like I've never been much of an athlete, I knew it was too late for me to even try rescuing them."

Jinxx just glares at Ray, her iron steely eyes scanning him. Ray knows she can sense bullshit, but instead of letting his nerves get the best of him, he just continues staring at her blankly, coldly, 

She bites her lip, and spits,

"Alright Mr. Toro, you're free to go. But I just want to add one last thing."

"And that is?"

"You're a fucking coward. In every sense of the god damn word."

The bluntness of her voice pierces through Ray's tough iron exterior, and as he walks out of her office, and through the halls of the station, he begins to weep. Before today, he thought that his cowardly attitude was just him being paranoid. Him plucking out small flaws in his personality and making them a lot larger than they really were.

But she just confirmed his suspicions, and now his paranoia is spiraling and going out of wack. If that flaw is one that's true, what if all the others are true too? What if he really is stupid, ugly, and a total attention whore? What if he really is bothering everyone he talks to? What if he really is just a burden?

What if, what if, what if...

And when he comes home to find his drugged up father passed out on the couch, and his mother shooting up heroin, he barely bats an eyelash. This is his kind of normal.

They don't greet him, and he just trudges into his room, and lays on his crappy quality bed. The same one he's had for over five plus years. He's so tall that his feet and a good chunk of his legs hang off the edge, and he has to curl up into a fetal position to get slightly comfortable. The lightbulb fizzes out just as he curls up, and he's left in darkness with nothing but a pounding headache and thoughts screaming at him. 

Fucking coward, they yell, you're nothing but a fucking coward. And maybe Ray begins to realize why his parents are so hopelessly hooked on their library of drugs. Because they seem like the only way to get your brain to shut up.

Ray would do anything just for a moment of peace, a moment of being content, a moment of joy. But alas, the last time he even felt such a thing was before Gerard had died, when his parents became religous and clean for around a year or two. When his family was friends with the Ways. When Mikey and him were so close, that they were on the edge of becoming something more.

But then Gerard died, and everything fell apart. 

Now Gerard is back, some fucking how, and instead of fixing things, he's screwing them up even more. Fuck Gerard Way honestly, Ray thinks angrily, just fuck him and his dumb ass decision. At least he wasn't cowardly enough to end it all like Gerard did.

That's the only bit of reassurance Ray gives himself as he slips into a nightmare filled sleep. At least he isn't that far gone.

Little does he know that he's already well on his way to reaching that point.

x x x x x x

It's three am, and Mikey is still awake. Which isn't surprising, to say the least. Ever since they started their late night escapades to find Gerard, their sleeping schedule has been all messed up. Bags decorate their eyeliner smeared eyes, and their cheeks are practically hollow. They look more dead than Gerard did the last time they saw him. 

You know those songs you listen to, and you feel like they would be a fitting background theme as you slowly fall and sink into your own supermassive black hole? The ones that you could just explode into glittery pieces to, and it would just feel so fitting? Mikey has a playlist full of those songs, and they blast them on repeat. Momma has come in on multiple occasions and told them to either 'turn off that antichrist devil's music' or to 'turn that trash down.' Mikey will just respond with an empty 'okay.', turn it down for about five minutes, and then turn it back up even louder than before. 

It's the same songs, forever on repeat, and Mikey doesn't really listen to music that's not on this dreary playlist. They know that this probably isn't really good for their mental health, but they don't really honestly give a damn. Anything that clears their head is great to them. 

They're shaken out of their spacey music-filled haze when they hear banging and crashing noises coming from Gerard's room. They rip out their earbuds, and paused the song currently playing (Deftones' 'Change [In The House Of Flies]' ). They want to run over to the source of the noise, and get excited and hopeful, but they know that that would be stupid. If it is indeed their brother, they must be quiet and careful. He's avoided them this whole time, and it's easy for him to just disappear again after he does whatever he's doing.

Mikey tiptoes out of their room, and puts their ear against Gerard's door. They can hear the sound of paper ripping, vinyl snapping, glass smashing. Not all at the same time of course, but in some sort of order. And there are cries; cries of anguish and frustration and sadness. Mikey can't let this go on any longer.

So they creak Gerard's door open, and there they find Gerard destructing; but instead of doing it to himself, he's doing it to his room. Comics are in ripped pieces scattered all over the floor, the mirror is shattered, vinyls lay in broken heaps with snapped CDs. Posters are crumbled into paper balls, and he's currently throwing one at a wall. Blood tears stain his porcelain complexion, and it takes a few moments for Mikey to get the courage to whisper,

"Gerard?"

And the whole world seems to freeze, everything coming to a tension filled standstill. Gerard turns his bloodshot eyes at Mikey. He could do so many things in this moment; he could physically attack Mikey, he could disappear into the night, he could confront them with way too bitter words. Or he could even just ignore Mikey, and continue his violent tornado like destruction of his room.

It isn't simply a room to Gerard though, it represents everything he ever was, everything anyone once knew. It represents his humanity and his weakness, his paranoia and fright. It's everything that was and is still flawed about Gerard, and he wants nothing more than to demolish it.

But instead, Gerard does the most pathetic option, in his personal opinion.

He sinks to the messy carpet, and begins to sob uncontrollably. Mikey cautiously walks over, and sits next to the wrecked Gerard. They put their arm around their older brother, and hug them close. 

Instead of lashing out and pushing them away, Gerard huddles closer. He needs to feel warmth, because he despises feeling so cold all the time. He hates this life, he hates these constantly sad feelings, he secretly hates killing others for food. He despises it all, so deeply, deep enough to where you'll never get him to admit anything of the sort. It'll never come out, it's buried deep within the metaphorical ground, like his old chestnut casket, and his even older dazzling dreams that'll definitely never come true now.

Mikey begins to cry softly as well, and the two siblings finally let themselves crack, feeling grief and pain at the molecular level, stretching and tearing them apart at the very seams. 

And it comes to show, that even the numbest coldest people eventually break.

x x x x x x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's motherfucking plot twist time.

Pete Wentz watches the two siblings bond over their common feelings of sorrow and deep depression.

Yes, he is indeed alive. Not alive alive, but a vampire. In Gerard's bloody drug-like haze, he actually had turned Pete. 

Now Pete is as cold and empty as Gerard. The only difference between the two is that while Gerard is filled with remorse and regret, Pete is filled with boiling steaming hatred.

It burns through his veins, scorches his brain, makes him dizzy and disoriented. It's the kind of anger that isn't average; it's more than a grudge or a disliking. 

When Pete was really alive, he would always say he hated things. He hated school, or himself, or his dragging job. But he never really knew what hate really felt like till now, as he watched Mikey and Gerard embrace in Gerard's former room, and comfort one another. 

Pete is far from the home, taking a walk on the street behind their house. He doesn't look too suspicious this way. He looks almost normal. But then again, it is also three am. Who the hell takes strolls outside at three am? 

He actually used to, on those sleepless nights where he couldn't stop thinking. He would do this to calm down, and would focus his mind on observing everything around him. It's the only thing that would successfully distract his brain. 

So maybe it's normal to find Pete Wentz, stereotypical emo teenager, walking out in the neighborhoods. But also, he's kinda dead. So. Maybe if someone actually did recognize him, they would sense that something is off. 

He wants to completely rip apart Mikey Way. Bit by bit, limb by limb, in an agonizingly slow torturous way. It's what they deserve, Pete thinks, for stealing his life away. His hope. His dreams. His family.

His kiss. 

The whole situation makes him feel nauseous to his stomach. No feeding will help, if he feeds he might just puke. He knows that since he's immortal, he can't really get sick. But he'll make himself puke up his guts. He knows how.

He's done it before, several times more than he'd ever admit.

His plans for Mikey are relatively simple; kidnap them when they're alone, drag them out somewhere where no one will ever find them. 

Then, the real fun will begin. 

There's an issue with this though; Mikey's mom is as strict as a drill sergeant, and extremely protective. Not to mention Gerard, who will most likely flip his shit if Pete even dares to touch his sibling. 

Pete doesn't want to kill Gerard though; he had no control over coming back, and he also unintentionally gave Pete the chance to take his sweet revenge.

Pete sighs, and continues on his merry way. Why did things end up this way? Why did he get himself caught up in the worst situation possible? Why was he such a damn idiot? 

Pete doesn't know, and he's desperately trying not to give a damn. 

x x x x x x

"The thing that killed Freddy and Jason isn't human." 

Frank and Otep sit together in the school cafeteria, eating shitty quality salads and drinking bottles of water.

"How do you know that exactly?" 

"I um... I actually talked to it." 

Otep does a spit take, spraying Frank, 

"What?! You talked to the killer?!" 

"Yeah. In the woods. I went to investigate the scene for myself and... There it was."

"Frank Iero, I gotta say, you are the biggest dumbass I've ever come across. What the actual fuck were you thinking?!" 

"I was thinking about trying to figure out what's really going on here." 

Otep rakes a hand through her hair, and exhales rather loudly,

"What was this person's name?"

"This thing isn't a person! I told you this already."

"How do you know that?"

"It's eyes were red. It reeked of gore and meat and shit... It looked sorta human, yet it gave off the vibe that it was something completely different. Not to mention, it said it wasn't human itself."

Otep gives Frank the most incredulous look. There are times like these where she honestly doesn't know how she's friends with someone so fucking weird and so unbelievably unintelligent. But then again, she feels as if she is the same way. It's how they get along. The two misfit oddballs, who believe in really funky stuff that some might think is absolutely foolish. 

Then again, there are some really funky things in the bible though, so ya know, maybe all of those conservative overly-judgmental 'Christians' should just shut the hell up. 

"Dude. Contacts. They're a thing. Same with lying. And are we totally just going to ignore the fact that you could've easily gotten killed??? Like what the fuck???"

"But I'm not dead though. I'm alive and breathing, so that shouldn't matter anymore."

"Ugh...So this person... thing or whatever, fine. It admitted to killing them?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember anything else about it?" 

"It had long dark hair... Snowy skin... Bloody clothes, obviously that's where the smell came from... That's it. That's all I know. Oh! And it has a nice laugh." 

Otep does a facepalm, and mutters, 

"You made it laugh?! Frank. What the actual hell? Were you flirting with it? I swear to god, are you trying to figure out what's going on or are you wanting to get laid?"

"Both actually." 

Even though Otep is incredibly frustrated with her friend, she can't help but laugh at his response. 

"Are you doing alright O? You seem a little stiff." 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all," 

She lies, her face forming into a half-ass smile.

She's concerned about Frank; concerned about where this fascination with the murder, and this dude, will lead him. She's got a bad feeling, one that lies deep in her stomach, worming around, burrowing deeper and deeper. Making her bleed, and feel pained, and just feel absolutely terrified. 

Maybe Frank is right, that something weird is going on here. Maybe this person really isn't a person. Maybe she's an idiot for even considering that Frank's theories could be true. 

Maybe it's because she has a feeling that whatever or whoever this dude is, it's not gonna let Frank go. That's just not in the nature of serial killers. 

If there's a survivor, or someone who at least knows what's going on, they're gonna die. Or worse. 

She's heavily thinking about giving Frank something to protect himself with. Not a weapon per say, something more magical. Something that could guarantee that no harm will come to him from whatever this being or person has in store. 

As Frank begins to babble about how water on Mars apparently automatically means there's aliens on there, Otep thinks about all the possible things she could do. 

The easiest, and most affective, would probably be a protective stone, with an added protective enchantment. Double the protection, double the power. 

When the passing bell rings, Frank and Otep bid each other farewell. Instead of going to her uneventful study hall, she simply walks out of the school, because security here is absolute shit. 

She gets in her rickety 1998 black Corolla, parked in the front row of the car lot, and speeds quickly home. Her friends safety means a lot more than a dumb study hall, and if she gets back to school quick enough, she can catch Frank before he rides the bus home. 

Luckily her two moms are both at work at the moment; Jill at State Farm, and Marcy at the record store. So they won't get angry at her for skipping school for an hour. Although technically, study hall isn't even a class. You can easily get away with doing absolutely nothing. It's just a free hour of talking, sleeping, and chilling. So it's not like she's really missing anything. 

She opens her door, revealing a setting of organized chaos. Posters of bands litereally engulf her walls, barely a smidge of her old pink wallpaper shining through. On her desk lays her supplies for rituals; stones, papers full of spells she got from the internet, bowls, plants, potions, and a couple voodoo dolls. 

She's a self proclaimed witch; her mothers think its all a bunch of hooplah, but some things that have happened in result of her rituals have no other explanation than the existence of magic. 

Otep searches her chest of stones to find a smooth white Selenite; it not only protects, but it also helps with healing and power. Frank defintely needs that after some of the bullshit that's happened to him lately. His aunt's divorce (he lives with her since his parents died when he was very young), his grandma dying from cancer, his slipping motivation and grades. And of course, the horrible constant harassment he gets; online, and in real life. Sure, Jason and Freddy are dead, which reduces that problem greatly, but there's still some other people in school that'll give him shit for his quirky odd personality. 

She grips the stone in her hand, and recites the spell;

"Protect my loved one from evil,  
Protect my loved one from all harm.  
This is my will, let it be done."

With each time she repeats it, she gets louder and louder, to the point where she's screaming it at the top of her lungs. She knows she's only supposed to repeat it three times, but she can't help but say it again and again, her voice taking an almost begging tone. She desperately wants this to work, because this is all she can do to help Frank. She knows he's one stubborn fucker; he won't stop persisting at whatever this is until he finds what he's looking for. Even if it puts him in danger. Because he just doesn't care about himself that much anymore; self preservation is a foreign concept to Frank. All he wants is the truth.

And she's afraid that the curiousity will kill Frank eventually.

Her mothers' skeptic looks flash through her mind as she spits the enchantment one more time. After she's done, she's absolutely breathless. She scans her room around her, and observes that nothing really has changed. Everything is still in it's place; nothing is broken or ripped or burning.

The only thing burning is the stone held tightly in her hand. With that, she sprints outside, back to her car.

This has to work. Or at least help,

Otep thinks,

It fucking has to.

x x x x x x

Frank sits on the bus while staring blankly at the stone in his hand. It's a relatively simple stone, and he's still trying to understand why exactly Otep was so insistant on giving it to him.

Just fucking take it, she had said, and never lose it. Keep it close to you at all times, and if you are enough of a fucking idiot that you do end up loosing it, tell me right away.

He puts it in his sweatshirt pocket, and watches the world pass by through the window. The same streets, same houses, same dead unmowed grass and same dead trees. No one in this town really seems to give a shit about impressions, Frank has concluded. And the honesty behind not giving a damn makes Frank a bit happy. At least this town tells, no screams the truth. Unlike everything and everyone else. 

This world is one big lie, one huge facade, and Frank can see right through it. Maybe that's why he is so into conspiracy theories and aliens and all of that jazz. Because it gives an explanation to why the world is full of so much bullshit. 

The world wants to keep it's citizens naive and happy. Once someone isn't content or wants to protest, that person is killed or wiped off. Or they're forced to conform. Which in some ways is worse, because at least if you're a martyr your cause gets more attention, and more people are snapped out of the illusion that everything is just peachy keen. Protests will erupt because of your sacrifice, and maybe some sort of change will be made. While if you conform, it's like giving up on your cause. No change will be made on your part. You become part of the issue, instead of the solution.

Frank had decided a long time ago that he will never conform, or give up. He will always work on trying to uncover the truth. If he dies while getting it, so be it. At least he tried. At least he didn't give in.

Frank gets off the bus, and something feels off. The stone burns, Frank can feel it through his sweatshirt. As he gets closer and closer to his aunt's house, the irking painful sensation gets stronger and stronger. Something in him is telling him to sprint the other way. But he keeps going. Once he gets to the front door, it takes practically ten minutes for him to get himself to open it. When he does, everything seems in order. His aunt beams and says hello, and he mutters a greeting back. He heads straight for his room.

That's when he finds chaos.

His room is utterly destroyed. His books are thrown off the shelves, and his clothes are out of his closet, and in a pile on the floor. It's obvious that whoever was in here was searching for something. And the thing that they were searching for is quickly found. 

His camera is smashed on the floor, glittering shards scattered everywhere. It makes him honestly want to cry, because he had saved and spent all of his damn savings on this camera. Now it's broken beyond repair. He picks up the remains, and sighs when he sees the SD card is gone. In its former spot, a scrap of paper lies.

Frank picks it up, and reads it's messy script.

I'm sorry Frank, but I couldn't risk it. You're too smart for your own damn good. Please stay out of this.

\- G


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Ray have a conversation that only furthers Frank's curiousity about 'G.' After Gerard acts angsty for a bit, he and Frank meet yet again at the record store. During Gerard and Frank's escapade, Pete plots his bloody revenge on Mikey and their Mama.

You know those days where you wake up, and you have a feeling that your entire day will turn out terribly?

That's the kind of day Frank is having. He had pulled a full nighter, pondering and thinking about how a murderer, a fucking unhuman murderer, knows his place of residence. This thing could kill him, or his aunt and uncle, whenever it pleases. Whenever it feels like it.

This petrifies Frank, because even though he doesn't give a damn if he's killed in search of the truth, he certainly gives a damn if people he cares about are killed. 

He's actually thinking about taking Otep's advice, and G.'s, and staying out of it. Which is probably one of the reasons he feels sick to his stomach, because honestly, giving up on a mystery just doesn't feel right to Frank. It feels like for this one specific case, the truth will forever be unknown. Which irritates him, because he's so close to it, so close to putting the pieces together. If he wasn't, why would the killer destroy his camera?

Frank's lord and savior, Fox Mulder, would probably not approve of pulling out of something like this. Mulder risked everything so many god damn times, and obviously, Frank hasn't yet. This is obviously the first time Frank has found himself in this kind of a situation, and it would really be quite shitty in his opinion if he chickened out of it. 

Frank is barely staying awake, his eyes fluttering, brain stuttering thoughts. Everything is becoming cloudy and rather muggy, and the teacher's voice sounds like low humming music. Frank is about to shut himself off for the remainder of class, when suddenly, the door creaks open. In comes Ray Toro, looking a little less fresh and spiffy then usual. His eyes are bloodshot, hair sticking up in all different directions (in a more unorganized and messy way than usual), reeking of b.o and some kind of drug stench. 

Usually the class welcomes him in with 'hello!'s and 'come sit by me!'s or even a fist pump. But Ray's not wearing his facade today, and the class is shaken and shocked. They don't speak, they only cringe and squint in disbelief.

Frank doesn't particularly like Ray, obviously because he always hung out with Jason and Freddy. But he now has an odd respect for him, because for once, Ray isn't being fake and cheery. His outside looks like his personality; sad, exhausted, and trashy.

The two share eye contact, and Frank is surprised when Ray sits by him at the back of the classroom. 

"Well you look like shit,"

Frank comments bluntly.

"Did you honestly think I didn't know that?"

Frank shrugs, and the two sit in silence for a moment, desperately trying to focus on whatever the fuck this dude is teaching. 

"Listen, I'm sorry Frank. Sorry for not standing up for you, or being nice to you in general, and for just being a shitty person."

"Pffft... like that's going to do anything."

"I knew it wouldn't but... it was worth a shot, I guess."

Ray continues, regardless of Frank's bitter response,

"Okay, so... you're a conspiracist, right? And you believe in aliens and all that shit?"

Frank sighs, preparing for some kind of insult,

"I thought you knew that already, since that's what you and your buddies mainly made fun of."

"Whatever... just... do you believe people can come back from the dead?"

"Like Eric Draven esc shit?"

"Yeah, sorta like that."

"Depends... why?"

"Because I swear to fucking god, I saw my old friend's brother snatch Freddy and Jason. That brother has been dead for three fucking years."

Frank's eyes widen; this could be the killer, the break he had been searching for (before pondering of giving up). He tells himself that this is all just out of casual curiousity, and asks,

"What's his name?"

"You don't remember the suicide that happened 3 years ago?"

Frank can remember vaguely hearing about it. The whole town was mouring over the guy, the guy that barely of them even really knew. Frank didn't want to be fake, he didn't want to go to a funeral and pay respects and pretend that whoever this fucker was meant something to him. Sure it sucked that a peer committed suicide, but so many happen everyday, and Frank only saw it as another tragedy, another everyday case of death. 

"I remember the event, I don't remember the guy who did it though. What was his damn name?"

"G--"

The bell interrupts Ray, and he groans,

"I'll tell you later. See ya Frank."

And Frank is left to wonder whether the name started with a 'G', or a 'J'. Because if it is indeed a G, then Frank is right, something out of the ordinary is occuring with this case. It still doesn't solve what exactly this thing is though. It certainly isn't a zombie, zombies are much slower and dumber. This thing is fast and intelligent, and is impossibly strong.

But if it's a J, then well, maybe something else odd is going on here. Maybe J helped G. Or vice versa. What if there are a whole clan of these things, living in the woods? That would be fucking crazy. It would explain how the bodies are stacking in there so fast, and how this brutal crime has actually been pulled off. 

With a sudden new possibility of a name to a face, a piece to the puzzle of this mysterious creature, Frank regretfully knows that he certainly can't get out of this now. He's in too deep, and nothing, not Otep, not even G. himself, can stop him from trying to understand what's going on.

x x x x x x

Gerard is the self proclaimed master of destruction.

All he's done since his coming back from the dead is destroy. Shaking up snow globe people, watching the snow swirl and spin, and then smashing them, watching the liquid bleed out all over the ground surface. Forever scarring that piece of dirt, or grass, or pavement. 

Then again, nothing ever is saved by Death's touch. Everyone and everything dies eventually. Some burn out bright like fiery torches, and some fading and slowly decaying, like roses or lilacs or daisies.

Gerard likes to convince himself that he's saving people from withering, from that slow painful death. He does his job quickly; his victims don't usually feel a thing. The only exception to that rule was Freddy and Jason, but in Gerard's opinion, they deserved every minute of their excruciatingly agonizing demise. 

Gerard doesn't just destroy people physically, but mentally as well. He rips the very stitches that just barely hold them together, watching as they unwind like a sweater, till there's nothing left. He doesn't intentionally do this of course; it's a nasty habit, equivalent of biting your nails or picking your nose. Or equivalent to something more toxic, like drinking or cutting or popping pills like candy. 

He sometimes will track down the families of his victims, and will observe how they carry on. Some pretend the family member never existed; they're dolls, and their faces are painted into blinding smiles, ever so slowly peeling off the surface. Some are worrying messes; thye grieve and scream and collapse like houses of cards, once so beautiful, now just a tedious mess lying on the floor. Some lie somewhere between the two extremes; they put a front to the people outside the home, but behind closed doors, they're distressed. Those people tend to be the ones really on the edge; they can't keep up their facades anymore. He observed that with Ray earlier that morning; his image that he so carefully crafted and worked so hard on is tattered, and no longer is relevant.

Gerard likes Ray better like this though, because now he won't be shitty to others just to look cool, because he doesn't care about impressions at all anymore. 

Gerard is forced to come home everyday, because one day, he noticed Mikey has more scars on their arms; they picked it up since that night with Pete. He worries for Mikey, because he can tell, he's ripping them apart too. He doesn't want to though; he wants to put Mikey back together again. But he can't, he fucking can't, because he's the master of destruction, and destruction can't create a whole person again, no matter how many times the jagged pieces are pushed together. The force only causes more cracks, and more breaks, and Mikey is the most fragile person Gerard knows at the moment. He can't risk it.

It would be better if Gerard ran off again, but Mikey then would self destruct for sure. They depend on Gerard like he's oxygen and they're suffocating. The dependency is increasingly unhealthy, and Gerard is honestly terrified; anything he says and/or does could cause Mikey to finally lose it. 

Gerard is even more paranoid lately about it than ever; he swears, he can feel someone watching the two, analyzing their every move, every breath, every word said and gesture made. If it's the reaper coming for Mikey's soul, Gerard will most definitely fight death in order to keep Mikey alive. His sibling is everything to him; he's all he has left.

The paranoia is what caused Gerard to smash Frank's camera; he was afraid that maybe it was Frank watching them, slowly gathering evidence and taking notes, creating theories and putting everything together, and then... then he would tell the public. All hell would break lose. And it would all be because of a nosey little shit who couldn't keep his god damn mouth shut.

Gerard is strolling through the streets of the city, scanning the windows of shops. He comes across the old record store he used to hang out at; it's where he would spend all of his savings, ranging from records like Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath to Smashing Pumpkins and David Bowie. Inside, he sees the little shit he was just thinking about; Frank Iero. He scans the CDs in the punk section, organized by artist and alphabetically. He's searching for something specific; he keeps re flipping through the J through L section. 

Gerard keeps his head low, and opens the door, the bell jingling throughout the store. 

"Hey!" 

The store clerk cheerfully chimes,

"How are you today?"

"Good,"

Gerard mumbles.

"Is there anything you're looking for?"

"Just browsing, but thanks anyway."

Gerard's hood is up, his hands are in his pockets, and he nervously sort of waddles over by Frank. Because vampires are always so smooth, amiright?

"You like punk too?"

Frank asks, smiling, eyes still glued to the CDs in front of him.

"Sort of. I'm more into classic metal and rock, and some chill alternative shit occasionally."

"Ah, I see. That's cool."

"What CD are you trying to find?"

Gerard asks, staring intently at his shoes.

"Jawbreaker's '24 Hour Revenge Therapy'."

Gerard quickly scans over the CDs, and finds it instantly. Its in a spot Frank has skimmed over at least twenty times, and Gerard would laugh his ass off if he was friends with this guy, or if he wasn't trying to keep as low of a profile as possible.

Gerard plucks the CD case out, and shoves it into Frank's chest. Frank isn't prepared, so the case clatters to the floor, and Frank's face is forming an almost dumbfounded expression. Before Frank can utter a word, Gerard is running out of the store, and quickly finds an unsuspecting weak victim. A boy with a broken leg. He uses his crutches to walk, and Gerard sweeps him off his feet, sprinting deeper into the heart of the city. Trying to find some alley thats deep and dark enough to engulf this crime in it's shadows.

The boy is screaming, and he's punching and kicking, trying to squirm with all of his might.

It takes one hard smack of his head against the brick wall to knock him out. Gerard tears open the boy's throat, letting the warm red substance rain down his chin, and drip on his clothes. The taste is warm and savory, like heaven. It blocks out all past thoughts, all past memories and paranoia. It all disappears, and the human side of Gerard is gone. 

He can't let that part of him come back.

Never.

He can't let himself befriend others outside of his family.

Never.

He can't be normal.

Never.

He's a monstrous nightmare that kills and feeds and destroys. Without remorse, without any regret or second thought.  
He's the master of destruction.  
And he never can try to pick up the crumbled pieces lying at his feet, unless he plans on shattering them to a point where they are but glittering stardust, little crumbs of dead dreams and wishes never to come true.

x x x x

Frank's stone was burning when the man helped him find his Jawbreaker CD.

He had tried to touch in the moment it with the hand he wasn't using to skim, but all that did was made it sting worse. Frank is still a child, the kind where the parent says 'don't touch the fire, it's too hot!', and the kid lets curiosity get the best of them, touching the fire anyway.

Something about the encounter did seem a little odd though. The way the guy kept looking away from him, the way he had his sweatshirt hood on in a perfectly warm store, the hasty way he threw the CD and vanished as if he was nothing but an apparition. 

His voice sounded familiar too. Way too familar.

But he just couldn't figure out who that damn voice belonged to.

x x x x 

The Way house on 4781 Cherry Lane is a small, quaint home. The outside is painted a dull blue, the kind of blue you get when you mix storm clouds and night skies. The shingles on the roof are black, and smoke rises out of the chimney. It's cold inside and out, and the family most likely is just trying to warm up and get cozy.

Green almost fuzzy looking bushes decorate outside. Brown barely hints at their leaves, and dead petals of past flowers decorate the soil underneath like death's bouquet.

But the bouquet is especially made for Mama Way, because this is the last dinner she'll ever make.  
Because Pete Wentz had come up with a solution for the problem of Mama; Why not just kill her too? It's not like she's a good person anyway, he thinks, no one will miss her.

No one will be there to miss her. Her undead son hates her, Mikey Way will be dead, her husband is now an ex. Her extended family never calls; they only send cards on Christmases and birthdays. 

This is justifiable.

And the rest of the houses watch and stare, windows gleaming reflections of the seemingly innocent exterior. Screams echo throughout the little suburbia, but no one dares to see what's going on. They continue with their lives and their roles in their family sitcoms and soap opera dramas. They don't want to crash another person's set. It's their business, let them deal with it.

But the Way set has been hijacked; the writers are no longer in control of their futures.

Their show could get canceled and end.

It's all in the hands of Pete Wentz, and being the showman he is, he wants the finale to be a bit spectacular. 

Mama Way will die a bloody death. He'll let her struggle, let her think she has a chance. Just when she finally thinks she's succeeded, he'll take her cockiness to an advantage and do her in.

Mikey will probably run out of the house, or try to escape. Pete will let them. He'll give them some time to run. Then the chase will be on, and it'll be a grand suspense thriller, watching the predator slowly close in on his prey. Or maybe this isn't a suspense film, or a thriller film, or an adventure film.

It's a straight up horror movie, and Pete is loving every minute of it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete attacks the Way residence. Meanwhile, Otep continuously feels sick, and she doesn't quite know what to do about that. She ends up going to her good friend Luna for advice.

Mikey wakes up to screaming.

It's coming from the other side of the door, a thin wooden barrier between a calm facade and the scenario that's the pure embodiment of chaos. 

They know it's their mother, and they know that from the banging and the shattering noises that there's some kind of violence occuring. They don't know who it is that is insuating the fight, or how badly their mother is hurt, or what the intruder wants. There's a battle occuring in Mikey; should they attempt to escape through the window, or should they try to save Mama?

Mikey glances through the small gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. There's blood splattered all over the floor, drops scattered like petals, destroying the once pristine white tile. The bottoms of chairs are out of place, and an old picture of a once perfect family lays against the wall, the glass shattered. Suddenly, their mother comes into view. She's falling, falling down onto the messy ground, brightly bleached long hair flying, face contorted into a begging expression. Her wrinkled arms are desperately trying to hold someone off, someone who's obviously much stronger. Tears stream down her face, mixing with the red flowing out of her nose. She's about to give in to her attacker, and her thoughts are racing like fast cars, trying to revive her andrenaline and spirit, but they just can't. And then there's a sigh, and her eyes flutter shut, and she lets her arms just fall to her sides. Then, the attacker goes for her... neck?

But before whatever it is can do that, she opens her eyes for another fraction of a moment, and glances over at the door, and catches Mikey's eye.

"Go,"

She mouths,

"Save yourself. I love you."

They know there's supposed to be more to that sentence, there always is, but it all will be forever unspoken, as the attacker finally bites into her. Mikey then analyzes the mop of dark hair, the tan skin, and the identity of Mama's killer hits them like a speeding train, smashing them into glittering pieces and leaving them loss for words.

It's Pete, and this is all Mikey's fault, just like every fucking thing wrong is, and Mikey wants to explode and simply self destruct. They know the motive for this crime, and it's not hunger, like Gerard's crimes are. It's revenge, and Mikey knows that Pete came to kill them, and that Mama is just an obstacle in the way that's easy to obliterate.

Maybe Mikey should just let Pete take his revenge. It's not like Mikey doesn't deserve it; they took everything from Pete, and maybe Pete should really do the same to them. Even though Mikey knows there's not much to take. Mikey's life is a repetitive cycle of tedious tasks and feelings of numbness, there's not much to look forward to, not much to see, or hear, or taste, because everything is blander than a hospital room. His Mama is on her dying breath, the line is about to make an alarming blaring beep, and Mikey just as close to death as her. If only their last words could be more meaningful. If only their last words could be heard by someone.

With that, Mikey quietly crawls over to their book shelf, and takes out a random old notebook, filled with pages of algebra homework from their freshman year in high school. They rip out the final page, one never used, and they quickly begin to write,

Gerard,

I'm sorry for bringing you back. I'm also sorry for those harsh words I said to you around a month ago. I was an idiot. I still am obviously. I mean fuck, the mistake of killing someone for you is coming back to bite me in the ass, for that same person is back to kill me in cold blood. I know you probably turned them on accident, and you may feel that this will be your fault, but it's not. It's really not. All of these dead bodies around me, the ones you and Pete feed off of, the one I directly killed, they all stem back to me. It's all me.  
Yesterday you said something about destroying everything you touch. Well I'm the same. More so even with me than you. You can't control yourself; you're a fucking newborn vampire, a child of sorts. I'm obviously human, one of 17 years, one with more experience and more control over my actions. I'm more of a monster than you can ever imagine, and the reason why I'm not running away from Pete is because I know I deserve every moment of pain I endure. I kind of want this as well, for you see, lately I've been bordering on the edge of suicidal, just like you, and fucking Pete, and almost everyone around me it seems.  
Just know that I'll be at peace once Pete does the deed.  
Thanks for being the best brother a person could ever ask for,

\- Mikey

With that, Mikey's door bursts open, and Mikey casually sets their notebook down next to them, without looking up,

"Hey Pete."

Pete furrows his brows at the oddly calm reaction,

"Umm... Hi?"

"You're here to kill me, right? Yeah, of course you are, I mean you kinda just killed my mama so, obviously you're going to do shit to me too. Just get it over with already."

Pete's perfect horror movie dream is going cruddly wrong as he finds himself fumbling with how exactly to respond. There's supposed to be screaming, running, shock, and begging. There's supposed to be a victim who finds life way too precious, and a villain who's all to eager to take it away, since the victim once did the same to him. There's supposed to be an urge to take more blood, an andrenaline rush still pounding through his veins. He's supposed to be drunk on violence, to be getting a kick out of this.

But there isn't, and he isn't, and Pete just sits in front of Mikey, and asks,

"Do you want do die? Genuinely this time?"

"Yes. I fucking want to die. Life has nothing to offer me."

Pete can see it in Mikey's dark empty eyes, and the way his whole body seems to sag and be limp, and the way that Mikey's past personality seems to be wiped away. There's no bitterness, no 'shut up's, no smirks and no evidence of any emotion whatsoever. 

Mikey is just another gray clone in a world void of color and vibrance. Maybe Mikey has always been like this, and Pete just hasn't noticed this until now. Maybe that's how they were able to manipulate him so coldly.

"Then I can't kill you,"

Pete says, not believing the words coming out of his mouth,

"You deserve to suffer in the worst way possible. If living does the job, then so be it."

Pete begins to stand and walk away, and Mikey begins to get utterly infuriated with this. What a let down of a climax, what a pathetic build-up too, what a fucking horrible movie this all is entirely.

"You fucker! You get back in here and fucking kill me! I deserve it!"

Pete stops in his tracks, and glares at Mikey,

"Why should I do you the justice? If you want to die, fucking do the job yourself."

"I can't do that to my brother. I fucking can't. You gotta do it."

"Fuck you Mikey Way. Honestly, fuck you. You're so fucking pathetic, you don't even have the guts to fucking kill yourself. You couldn't even murder me quickly, you just let me bleed out and die, convincing me that we were doing this shit together,"

Pete finds his voice escalating, and the adrenaline begins to course back through his dead veins, and his head starting to spin with the blinding rage that's the cause of this entire sequence of events, this isolated incident, this grudge and this bloody revenge,

"You convinced me that I wasn't going to be alone! Yet I was! I always was, always had been. You took everything from me, you sick fuck! And for what? A brother that's not even around that much anymore, because he, like me, is too busy trying to get his next blood fix! All of those bodies littering the forests and the streets, those are from him and me! He can't be there for you emotionally, because all of that emotion died with him three fucking years ago! If you would've gotten your brother back fully, you wouldn't still be falling apart, now would you? Because your whole world revolves around him, which is so fucking unhealthy, but what fucking ever. You're finally starting to realize the damage you've caused from that dumb mistake you made a month ago, and you just can't handle the thought that nothing will ever be the same as it once was."

The more Pete talks, the more his voice rings in Mikey's ears, buzzing and popping and exploding, blocking all rational thought processes. It's denial at it's best, an emotion Mikey knows all to well, and they just can't process Pete's words. They don't want to, and they cover their ears and yell,

"Shut up! Please, just shut up!"

Pete gets closer to Mikey, kneeling down in front of them, and takes a hold of their shoulders. Mikey tries to wriggle free, writhing and starting to cry, but Pete is too strong. It's now tempting to kill Mikey, because honestly, Pete finds them to be really fucking annoying at the moment,

"Look at me you piece of shit! Look at me! And stop bawling, it's making me sick."

Mikey hates yelling, and to have someone yell in their face honestly makes them want to just cry more, but they know that if they do, then more loud words will be shoved down their throat. So, Mikey shuts up, and gulps. They look Pete in the eyes, those dark holes that still hold a smidge of past warmth, even though anger is obvious in his expression.

Pete can feel a pep talk coming on, and he hates it, because god damn it, this dumbass really didn't deserve one. He's way too nice, like honestly, why can't he just be a heartless shell of a person like every other god damn vampire?

"Get the fuck over it, you hear me? Gerard died. He killed himself with a shotgun three years ago. You killed me with manipulation and a knife. We're still dead, the only difference is that we walk and talk. But every move of ours is carefully rehearsed and concocted, so we can lull people into our fucking death traps, convincing them that we are just like them. You can't depend on him for shit. You can't depend on me either. Everything is a lie. Snap out of it and for God's sake, please get your shit together."

"So if everything is rehearsed, is this also practiced?"

Pete sighed,

"Honestly no. I came in here prepared to kill you. I guess there was a change in plans. This is me doing improv."

"Then what you said is wrong. There's still something human left in Gerard, and there's something left in you. Being human is all about impulse."

"And so is being an animal in general."

Pete lets go of Mikey, and once again, rises from the floor.

"So I'm confused. Do you want me to slowly wither and sink into my depression, or do you want me to get better? Because you're sending mixed signals."

Pete mutters,

"You're too weak to carry life's burden much longer. I can smell death's stench on you, or maybe that's the dead body in the other room. Who knows? Either way, you're in too deep denial to ever truly comprehend what I truly just told you. So you'll slowly waste away. Which is the worst kind of death imaginable. With that, I say goodbye Mikey."

Pete begins to walk out of the home, but he's quickly struck down by Gerard, who just arrived to this bloody scene.

"Pete!!" 

Mikey finds themself screaming, and the yell doesn't register with Gerard until he had already put a knife through Pete's heart.

"Well shit,"

Pete glances down at his fatal wound.

" 'Well shit' is right, you sick piece of shit! You fucking killed my mom!"

Gerard yells, and takes out the knife.

With that, starting at Pete's feet, and slowly rising up his body, everything becomes ashes, and with one final sigh, Pete Wentz becomes nothing more than a pile of gray dust on the already messy floor.

Gerard runs over to Mikey, and asks,

"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No... no he didn't,"

Mikey lies through their teeth on the line after,

"You came just in time. Thank you."

"Anything for you man,"

Gerard quickly hugs them. It's a stiff one, a cold one, one that feels like hugging a gravestone.

"Now,"

Gerard continues,

"We either have to clean this shit up really well, or we have to get out of here."

And maybe it's the fact that with one stab, Gerard's fury over Mama's death dissipated, or maybe it's the fact that Gerard hasn't shed a single bloody tear, or maybe, just maybe, it's the fact that Gerard is already strategizing how to cover this up.

But something makes Mikey realize that just fucking maybe, Pete Wentz, the boy they had killed (and whom originally was going to kill them in return), was fucking right about everything.

x x x x

Otep lately has been getting sick.

It'll be at the most spontaneous moments, whether it be in school, or at home, or at her job. She'll randomly collapse to the floor, heat scorching through her body, making her feel like she's going to puke out her guts.

The most pecular thing about it was that it never occured when Frank was around. 

Otep thinks it might just be the worrying and stress over his safety getting to her. But then again, there will be times where she won't even be thinking about Frank, and it'll suddenly hit her. She sometimes has the strength to run to the nearest bathroom, and to get by a trash can or toilet, but nothing will come out. These random speals will vary in time duration, whether it be five minutes, or a whole hour. They're never at certain time during the day, the side effects never change, and it's just the oddest fucking medical experience Otep has ever really had in her seventeen years of existence.

She just left prompt care, and they told her that nothing was wrong. So there's only thing it could possibly be in Otep's mind; magic.

She either has done a spell wrong, or she's been cursed by another witch. To find the solution to whatever this magic mishap may be, she turns to her mentor, and her best friend, and her possible crush, Luna.

Luna has taught Otep everything she knows about witchcraft and spells, and is basically the Yoda to Luke Skywalker in Otep's life.

Luna lives and works on the streets, but in a smaller city like this, its decently easy to track her down.  
She's never disclosed to Otep how exactly she ended up there. Otep realized a little bit ago that she doesn't know much about Luna at all; nothing about her family, her schooling, her dreams. Nothing. So one day, not long ago at all, like last week, Otep had prodded her about her life. Luna had told Otep her dream; to move to Hollywood and become an actress. Or to become a singer in a punk rock band. She doesn't care which one happens, as long as one of them does end up happening. She's saving her money to either buy an apartment, a guitar, or a one way plane ticket. But Luna never said anything about her past; it's all secret, all something that she insists is unecessary to knowing her as a person. She wouldn't even give Otep her last name.

Otep strolls along the the street that Luna usually tries getting costumers on. There are some of Luna's fellow prostitues strutting around; Angelica, a sweetheart with a horrible heroin addiction. Esmeralda, a tough as nails badass whom doesn't take shit from anyone. Hayley, a hard working girl trying to make ends meet for her small family of three.

Then there's Luna, sitting on the sidewalk, cross legged. Her and the other girls have this grace about them. They almost glide across the pavement, heads always held high, their high heels click clacking in a somewhat perfect rhythm. They're all beautiful in different ways.

Otep thinks Luna looks like the night sky. Her eyes are a dark rich blue, and they hold stars inside of them. But her eyes' boundaries are weak, and because of that, the stars also spill out on her dark cheeks, illustrating stunning constellations. Her hair is black, black like the bats that fly in the night, camouflaging and devouring prey. It's in spirals, curly springing spirals that bounce as she walks. Her skin is like hot cocoa, the kind you drink on a cold breezy day. 

Simply put, Luna is the prettiest person Otep has laid her eyes upon, and she's in awe of her. 

The girls greet Otep as she takes a seat next to Luna.

"I need your help,"

Otep says, her hand raking through her hair.

"Why am I not even surprised?"

Luna chuckles,

"What's going on this time?"

"I've been feeling spontaneously sick. Like. I'll be perfectly fine, and then all of a sudden, I feel like I'm going to puke and burn into ashes."

"Sounds like you've got the stomach flu. Can't help with that, I'm not a doctor obviously."

"I went to the doctor already. They say that nothing is wrong, that I'm perfectly healthy."

"You told them about what's going on? Entirely? The whole story with every gross detail?"

"Yes."

"Wow. What a bunch of shitty doctors."

"The thing is, I don't think it is something physical. I think it has something to do with magic."

"Oh. Now I see where I come in."

A car stops by the curb where the girls are at. It's shiny and new, a 2015 white chevy. A man is inside, he's large and fat, with a long graying beard. 

Luna stays put, and lets the other girls handle the client.

"I want that pretty little thang behind ya,"

The old man says,

"The black one."

"She's not working right now,"

Angelica says timidly,

"Sorry."

The man groans,

"Fine. I want this one,"

He points to Hayley,

"And this one."

He points to Esmeralda,

The two girls hop into the truck, and speed off, leaving Angelica standing by herself.  
Lately, Angelica hasn't been good at getting clients. Ever since she was raped last month, her confidence has vanished, and she's only a shadow of what she used to be. Luna has tried to use magic to soothe her, to heal her, and it doesn't work that much. Angelica is now an anxiety filled mess, and that coupled with her heroin is setting her on a downward path to destruction. Soon, Luna fears, Angelica might not be able to work in the streets at all. 

Luna would comfort Angelica, but she's dealing with Otep at the moment. She doesn't find Otep bothersome, she loves her company, it's just that sometimes, she feels as if Otep is only friends with her just so she can have someone to unload all of her problems onto.

"So, what spells have you done lately?"

"Not many actually. I've been trying to let nature and karma and all that shit balance out. But I did do an enchantment on a selenite to help protect a friend."

"That Frank guy, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah. He's such a fucking idiot."

"From what you've told me about him, I certainly agree. What does he need protection from, and what was the exact enchantment you used, word by word?"

"There's this killer on the lose in the city, as you most likely know. Frank actually met with him at one point, but the killer let him go. I was worried that at some point, this guy might finish Frank off. So I did a simple enchantment, one that said something about protecting loved ones from evil. Repeated it so many times.... certainly more than three..."

"Aha!"

Luna smiles with realization,

"I see what you did wrong. It's not really even necessarily wrong, if you look at it from a different perspective. You made the enchantment stronger by saying it more than three times. So strong in fact, that when that stone burns in the presence of danger, you do too. You've unknowingly been sensing when he's been in times of possible peril. It's like a spidey sense or something, except it only applies to this one specific person. The only issue is, like you said earlier, you feel weak. If you want to take full advantage of this, you must learn how to fight your weakness, and try to not get sick. I suggest keeping hydrated and staying as cold as you can. Luckily for you, the weather is starting to get chilly, so just by being outside, you can get cold."

"Alright. Thanks Luna."

With that, Otep's mood soars. She can help Frank. She can protect him from whatever evil threatens him.

Not even with just an enchanted stone, but she can actually physically be there with him and help him fight shit off.

With that, one of her many looming problems is solved, and she can relax for a bit. She can simply enjoy the lovely day, the great music twinkling from her iPhone speaker, and an amazing conversation with the girl that she may or may not love.

x x x x


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard thinks about how he's now solely responsible for taking care of Mikey. Frank draws 'G.', and thinks about him quite a bit. Jillian, the same officer who interviewed Ray, begins to grow frustrated due to her serial killer case quickly becoming cold. Luna and Angelica take a walk together, and everything is rather hunky dory, until they meet a certain creepy 'stranger'...

Gerard stares at himself in the mirror, then glances down in the sink.

Littering the insides are little snippets of his old black hair. Yes, he had to cut it, so he would no longer be recognizable. He also had to buy contacts, which are irritating as hell to him. All they do is blur everything up, destroying their original purpose.

He looks like he did back when he was around sixteen. So young, so innocent, and his cheeks seem to look pinchable, his now muddy brown eyes having the same child-like glitter as their sibling's. 

Mikey is currently ripping out the tile, replacing it with extra found in the basement. Gerard already swept up Pete's ashes and disposed of their mother's body.

Her death meant a lot to him in the moment, but now, looking at the aftermath, maybe it's better like this. Mikey can finally be who they want to be, and express themselves in anyway they can. Which should make them a lot happier, and maybe get them out of this rut they're stuck in.

But this euphoria is only temporary, for they know they need money, and they can't take it from their mother's account because that'll look way too suspicious. Especially since she won't be going to work tomorrow, or the next day, or ever again.

Her disappearance will soon start to be investigated, and Mikey will be the prime suspect if they run or if they take anything. So they must keep as low as a profile as possible. Act as child-like as possible, as if they depend on their mom, as if they're completely lost without her.

Gerard is now not only looking over Mikey as a sibling, but now as a parent, a provider, and that is somewhat terrifying to them. He can't just run off anymore, he can't let his animalistic impulses take control like he originally planned. He has to be human, he has to think logically and solve problems and help their sibling out with their shitty predicament. He can't just let go.

The pressures of the world are once again falling and pressing upon him, smashing him, suffocating him, drowning him in his own sea. Just like when he was alive. Except this is even worse. Because even though he doesn't have to worry about people pushing him around anymore, he has to worry about literally everything else. This whole chain of events is all his fault, and the guilt settles deep down in his gut, boiling and burning, making him just want to scream in pain.

"Hey Gerard? Can you help me out with this?"

Mikey calls from the other room.

"Sure,"

Gerard says softly, trying to clean up the hair in the sink as fast as he can.

If only I didn't give up so fast, Gerard thinks, if only I knew how everyone would be affected.

If only I didn't fucking destroy everything.

If only I didn't kill my damn self all those years ago.

x x x x

Frank is sketching a picture of G.

Everything about the picture is dark, in different shades of blacks and grays. The background is filled with trees, and the sky is pitch black, because in this small universe illustrated in the picture he draws, the stars have all fallen and exploded.

G's hair is a tangly messy mass on top of his head, as unorganized as Frank's room, yet as intricate as spiderwebs. His skin reminds Frank of porcelain dolls, and for some reason, Franks has a feeling that G. is just as fragile. Frank can tell that G. has that type of persona where he'll put up a front, a tough toxic one, but underneath, he's paranoid and scared. Just like Frank.

He's scared because he's smashed the camera. But he hasn't destroyed Frank, and from the way G. said to stay out of it, and the way he warned Frank, he fucking cares more about human beings more than he lets on.  
Or maybe he just has an odd thing for Frank.  
Who knows?

All Frank knows is that G. won't hurt him, no matter how much he prods. 

Frank still can't figure out what G. exactly is though. He's watched the news recordings of the crime scene, has gone back to the forest on multiple occasions, has replayed the memory of G. and his appearance way too many times. He can't put it together though. If only he could see the corpses of Jason and Freddy for himself, maybe he would finally find out what's going on.

But there's no way he would dig up their gravesites. That's so disrespectful in Frank's mind, like that's disrupting their peaceful infinite sleep, and that's just not cool. Not cool at all. Plus he would probably get arrested for it. 

There's only one bit of color on the page. It's in G.'s eyes. They're bright red, vibrant like roses, and their gaze stings like thorns, the type that are sharp enough that if they prick you, you'll definitely bleed.

This mystery is consuming Frank whole, those eyes haunting him in his nightmares, that voice stuck in his head like some annoying pop tune. He wants this god damn tune out, but he knows that the only way to get one tune out is to get another one in.

Frank knows that such a thing will not happen anytime soon.

x x x x

Officer Jillian Jinxx is about five seconds from going in and smashing all of the lab equipment, destroying every dinosaur computer, and from screaming 'fuck it' and drinking a whole bottle of red wine.

She's at the station late, skimming over the same dead end evidence over and over again. 

The only thing that's changed since she's interviewed Ray Toro is the fact that DNA was found at the scene, but it didn't match to a single suspect. It also didn't match to anyone even alive.

When they entered it into the CODIS system to see if there's a match, they indeed got a hit.

But the damn thing is, that hit was exactly who Ray said the perpatrator looked like; Gerard Way.

He had been arrested on a charge of vandalizing (he had spray painted 'homophobia is fucking gay' on the side of a book store downtown run by conservatives). Since he was a minor, he was just given the sentence of community service and a couple months of house arrest.

But the thing is, that boy is dead. He died three fucking years ago. Jillian had ordered the tests to be done over and over again, suggesting that someone must've made a mistake. But the same results keep popping up, and Jillian doesn't know how to explain a dead person's DNA being all over these other dead people's bodies.

The thing that's even worse is that whoever this fellow is is a serial killer; more and more bodies keep popping up and the same DNA keeps being found on every single one of them. Every single person points to a dead man.

She vividly remembers going to the Way residence the day Gerard died, with medics and a couple other officers. She remembers seeing the poor boy's brains all over the walls. She remembers seeing the family grieving, like any other family would. She remembers it all, and knows that there's no way this kid could've pulled some 'faking your own death' bullshit. That only happens in the movies, and this isn't a movie obviously.

Jillian sighs, and slams her folder on her desk, watching as the papers pop out and flutter like snowflakes to ground. 

If she doesn't get this case solved, she knows she'll lose her job. This is not only the biggest case of her career, but possibly, the biggest case in the entire department's history. But how can she solve a case with answers that sound like something out of the twilight zone or the x-files? She'll be laughed at, made fun of, looked down upon. None of her fellow officers will take her seriously ever again. 

She's now beginning to accept how totally and utterly fucked she is. She's just as dead as that Gerard kid.

Because he fucking has to be dead, right?

x x x x

Luna and Angelica are walking through the suburban neighborhoods. They're not looking for clients, they're just glancing at the houses, watching the 'typical' families function with their 'typical' traditions and 'typical' small talk. Such normalcy, such blandness, such naivety to what's really going on around them.

"I'd give anything for a life like that,"

Angelica says wistfully,

"To just have everything handed to me on a silver platter, to not have to worry about a thing in the world. To actually have some kind of naive that possibly, one day, my dreams could come true."

"Angie, so many of those families are probably going through shit. Surburbia is a land full of dollhouses, and theatrics, and all these people are either playing a role, or are being played with. I bet if we just look through some of the closed curtains, we'll see arguments, abuse, affairs, and just about every damn thing under the sun. That's the thing about living on the outside and looking in; you can either see straight through the lies, or you're blinded by them. We can see through them, because we've been through so much."

Luna stares at a stormy blue house, one that seems like the most unassuming place on could ever lay their eyes upon. A teenager, one that looks about Otep's age, maybe younger, strolls outside of the home. His hair is short, and he's wearing a black hoodie with ripped jeans. She gets a bad vibe from him, one that makes her automatically walk a little faster, just wanting to get as far away from that guy as possible. Sure she's dealt with creeps of all kinds, especially in her line of work, but something about this dude just irks her to a whole new level.

"What's wrong?"

"That guy over there,"

She points to the teen,

"He gives me the creeps."

"He looks normal to me. In fact, he actually looks a little cute."

The guy's eyes dart from the ground, and up towards the girls. He slowly starts to walk towards them, hands in his pockets.

Luna sighs, and mumbles,

"Great. Now we've got ourselves a stalker, and it's all because of your dumbass."

"Sorry," 

She mumbles back.

"Hi..."

The guy says bashfully, almost scuttling towards the duo,

"Sorry if I come off as a bit weird, I'm just bad with people, that's all."

"Saaaaame,"

Angelica smiles in agreement, and Luna is seconds from slapping her back to her senses. Then again, maybe she is being a little paranoid. The guy looks innocent enough. He's pretty small compared to Luna; she's an astonishing 6'1, while this guy is around 5'8 at the most. He's thin, weak almost. She could probably easily kick his ass if need be.

So because of that fact, Luna relunctantly lets the conversation continue.

"So, what are you guys doing out here so late?"

The guy asks.

"I could ask the same to you,"

Luna bitterly spits.

The guy stiffly grins at Luna, and then says,

"I was just going out for some ice cream. If you guys want to come along, you may. I'll pay."

Ice cream?, Luna thinks. Usually these kind of creeps ask if they want to come along to bars or go to their house or some shit. Maybe ice cream is some new age sexual innuendo that Luna doesn't know about. She may be 23, which is young, but it's old enough to where she's not really 'hip with the youth' anymore. For example, she literally just found out what netflix and chill meant, and this has been around since like early 2015 or so. 

Luna arches her eyebrow quizzically, and asks,

"What do you mean by 'going out for ice cream'?"

The guy chuckles,

"Just that. Going out for ice cream."

"I haven't had ice cream in forever!"

Angelica squeals,

"Oh my gosh Luna, we have to go! It's fucking ice cream! Sugary chocolate goodness!"

The guy giggles, and there seems to be an almost genuine twinkle in his eyes,

"You heard her! You can't resist sugary chocolately goodness, now can ya?"

Maybe for the moment she's convinced, which is how

"You haven't even told us which ice cream place we're going to yet!" 

pops out, but she can sense something still is off. Very, very off.

Angelica and Luna follow the man back downtown, and Angelica chatters, until she finally says something relevant,

"You're taking us for ice cream, and we don't even know your name! What is it?"

"Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot about that,"

He turns around, and smirks, and something about the expression hints back to Luna's belief that there's malicious intent behind all of this,

"My name is Gerard. But you can call me G."

x x x x

It's 2 am when Otep's phone begins to ring off the hook.

The worst part is that her automatic ringtone is 'Wake Up' by Suicide Silence. It does it's job well, as it does wake her up, but it also scares the living shit out of her.

She answers it in a groggy grouchy haze,

"Hello? Frank, if that's you, I swear to fucking god--"

"It's not Frank! It's Luna! Sh-sh-shit, I'm calling from a payphone, I'm using spare change in my boot to pay for this fucking call. You gotta help me! Please! Angelica and I have been attacked and robbed! I'm pretty sure she's dead, and I was able to run off but... fuck, I'm at the intersection of Jefferson and West, you gotta do something!"

"Luna... fuck, why didn't you call 911?!"

"Obviously I can't, because I'm wanted for prostitution related stuff. They could arrest me instead of focusing on the real crime here." 

"Well it's better taking the chance of possibly being arrested then waiting for me to arrive."

"Whatever, it'd take just as much time for them to get here as you. Also, haven't you heard the horrible things the police have done to black people such as myself? In custody or not? I don't trust them at all! Obviously my goal isn't to die at the moment, and you're my best shot at living. You have a car, please hurry and get here, before he finds me."

"Alright, alright, I'm getting up. Just stay on the phone with me, okay?"

Otep snatches her keys off of her dresser, and slips on an old neon yellow sweatshirt, and a pair of slippers too. She runs out of the house, accidentally slamming the door behind her.

"Luna, are you still there?"

"Yeah... I think I hear footsteps nearby, fuck, I can't see for shit in this fog..."

"I'm starting my car, just try to camoflauge somehow till I show up, I don't fucking know."

"Camouflage? Bitch, what the fuck? I'm standing in a glass phone box, there's no way to camouflage. if I run, you won't know where to find me, the safest thing to do is stay where I'm at."

"Isn't there buildings you can hide in?"

"Well yeah, but at these late night hours, they're just as dangerous. Either way I could get hurt, and not to mention he could easily pop out at any moment and drag me back into that hellish alley. I can't move, god I'm so terrified... oh shit shit shit, is that his silhouette?? Great. Fucking great. How close by are you?? "

"Just give me a couple of minutes."

Then, Luna's panicky yet boisterous voice lowers to a small whisper,

"I don't think I have that much time..."

"Just... Keep calm. Umm, fuck, just tell me what you remember about him... Appearance, quirks, anything..."

"Well first off, he's a small cracker fuckboy, he's got short dark hair, and his eyes are the color of shit. His voice is a bit nasally, and he's into a bunch of nerdy shit. Like that Magic game, and D&D, and that kind of crap. He kept going on and on about it while him, Angie, and I were out for ice cream. He comes off nice enough, seems weak, but he's super strong, almost to an inhuman point. Oh yeah, and his name... fuck... I think it begins with the letter G..."

Otep's blood runs cold as she connects the dots, the picture illustrating a killer, the same one who killed Frank's bullies, the same dangerous being who Frank is so god damn infatuated with. She's not only blindly infuriated, but worried to the point where it's crushing her into pieces.

"Hello??"

"Sorry, I was just thinking...I might know who your attacker is... Not specifically but, I know he's killed before. He's that murderer that's been slaughtering people left and right... My friend Frank actually met him, and he's is the only person G. has ever let go... G. ransacked Frank's room afterwords, and destroyed his camera. G. left a note apologizing, and signed it. "

"Well fuck."

"Yeah."

".... and to think, my death is going to be caused by an ugly piece of shit who doesn't have a life. Maybe that's why he's so busy taking everyone else's. To be honest, I kinda wanted death to be peaceful, as quick as a blink of an eye. I wanted it to feel like a nice long eternal nap. But instead, I have to --"

"Stop talking like that!! You're not going to die!!"

"I wish I could believe you but, I think this might be it. This is the end."

"Shut up, please, shut up. The more you think that way, the more certain that fate will be. You have to think like a survivor, not a victim. Like, at least try and fight back, don't just lay there and let him tear you apart."

The line goes silent as Otep makes her way up West Street. The Jefferson-West intersection is the farthest up, and she has to make her way through 4 traffic lights in order to get to it. It may seem like only a few, but the town is rather busy at these late night hours. The shabby bars are crowded with loners and partiers. One in particular, The Beast's Beat, hosts live heavy metal music. You can hear the low bass line from there practically pounding on your car door, demanding to be let in. There's a couple strip clubs open as well, their sickly neon lights advertising risqué dance routines and scandalously clothed women for dirt cheap prices.

With each minute she has to wait for the light to change, her anxiety grows, and Luna's new unresponsiveness doesn't help one bit,

"Luna? Fuck! Talk to me, what's going on? I didn't actually mean that I legit wanted you to shut up, I just want you to have some fucking hope." 

All there is in response is deep breathing, and in a matter of seconds, it escalates into a high shrill shriek. It pierces Otep's eardrums, and blows a hole through her heart,

"Oh my god!!! Oh my fucking god, oh my fucking... Shit shit shit!!!! Come on, get out of there, or say something, do anything, please!!"

No response, it's all just incomprehensible yells of pain, and then after a few moments, the phone simply goes dead.

"Lulu?"

Otep asks softly, the nickname seeming to echo in the tense quiet. She can feel her hands tightly gripping the wheel, her knuckles turning into a burning white. Her whole body is on edge, every muscle feeling stiff and uncomfortable. 

She then speeds through the rest of the red lights, all the dim colors of her surroundings passing by at fast speeds.  
She almost gets into a couple wrecks, and many people flip her off and cuss at her. But she can't help her careless driving, she has to get to that damn box, she has to know if Luna is still there. 

When she finally reaches the intersection, Luna is gone from the box. The only evidence of her ever being there is the blood smeared all over the clear walls. The phone still hangs by its cord, barely touching the concrete.

Otep then parks in the nearest parking lot, and cries. She cries for her friend, a girl she was just starting to really know, a beautiful girl with so much intrigue, intelligence, and grace. Someone she aspired to be like personality wise. Someone who understood.

Someone who had stopped Otep from jumping off the bridge a few years ago.

Someone who gave Otep hope, and light, and love. Someone who helped her find herself.

And now Luna's gone, forever lost into the night, her essence blending into the backdrop like paint, mixing to create a whole new color. But Otep can't focus on this new pretty shade of blue, all she can think about is the stench of this paint, that horribly strong smell that makes you dizzy and disoriented. 

It's the equivalent of rotting bodies, and maybe Otep is getting tired of all of this death, all of this pain and suffering. Every day it seems now, someone else she knows or knew dies. She'll see it on the news. A kid from her neighborhood, friends of friends, clerks at stores, allies, enemies, one night stands. They're all dying, and fuck, she can't take it anymore. Each person that's died, at one point they were a part of a memory. Good or bad, they shaped Otep into who she is today. 

Now she wants nothing more than to forget, but she can't do that without losing herself. 

She knows that in order to stop herself from blocking out the world and completely fading out, the death and decay must end. The only way to truly end it is to destroy it at its core.

So maybe she'll help Frank track down G.. Who he really is, what he really is. The letters following that singular initial, the face that isn't just her imagination's drawing. 

But in reality, she won't find it for science or to interrogate it for motives. She'll simply kill G. 

And after the deed is done, she'll finally find some peace.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Gerard feels remorse over his killings. Otep and Frank get into an argument over G. Mikey ponders what Pete told him more in depth.  
> We then flashback to around thirty minutes or so before, at the beginning of the assembly. During this time, Mikey and Ray talk, having a cute little moment together.

Gerard stole, in total, five hundred dollars from the two prostitutes he attacked.

One of them got away, but Gerard doesn't care; he can always change his appearance again, and plus, there's also the fact that technically, he has no identity to pin the crime to, since his old identity is dead.

But as much as that thought calmed him, he also felt dirty. This time, unlike the times before, he felt immense guilt; he could hear the girls' screams echoing in his mind, and everywhere he looked, he saw blood, and guts. It stained his vision, and it wouldn't get out.

Maybe it's the way that the bubbly one grinned at the mention of ice cream, or the fact that the bitter one seemed to know what he was up to all along. Maybe it's how this experience illustrated how naivety is bliss, but how bliss can also lead to your demise, thanks to people like Gerard.

Gerard was no longer the naive person he once was. He can't wash these crimes off these hands. He is now the ultimate villain, the kind that they warn you about in school, the kind that gets exaggerated in films, the kind that will always have a negative connotation to him, even if he did have some redemption arc in this fucked up storyline of his life.

Gerard knows that he'll have to rob another person, people, or store, soon. But five hundred is a good enough amount that the siblings could get by for another couple of weeks or so. By then though, the police should be investigating Mama's disappearance. Mikey will most likely be whisked away to live with their dad. 

Then Mikey won't be Gerard's responsibilty, and then he could go back to killing only for survival, and for no other reason other than simply that.

Mikey will never see Gerard again after that day in which they're taken away. And maybe Gerard should be sad about that, but it's all for the best.

Every last dreadful second, leading up to then, when the moment hits, and afterwords.  
All for the better.

x x x x x x

The school is having an assembly, and Frank and Otep see no point in it.

There's nothing to discuss that's truly important. All it is is a bunch of cheerleaders flipping around, screeching about pep, a scripted dialogue between a senior and a teacher that's supposed to be funny (but it's not), sports teams promoting themselves (as if they don't have enough promotion already), and games played by 'representatives' of the different grade levels (mostly preps who are just happy for the extra attention they recieve for doing this). 

It's baffling to Frank that the school goes to this much of an effort three times a year to promote pep and school spirit, yet they can't hold a simple fundraiser for charities and educate their students on serious social issues that really need to be addressed. 

"I'm going to help you,"

Otep mumbles, staring into space.

"With what?"

"Your search for this 'G' guy."

"I thought you said that I should stay out of it."

"I don't give a shit. He killed some dear friends of mine. I want to fucking find him and---"

"Otep, I'm not trying to find him for revenge purposes. I just want to find out scientific stuff about him. Like what he is, where he's from, what abilities does he have--"

"Wouldn't it be easier to study his body and it's functions if he was dead?"

"No. Then I would be no better than NASA. I'll just ask him some questions, talk to him, be civil--"

"You shouldn't be civil to someone who's killed a lot of people."

"You were happy when he killed Freddy and Jason. Now because he killed someone you love, he's suddenly a bad guy?"

"They deserved that! They were hurting you and others for the longest time, it was only just that they got hurt in return."

"Hurt maybe, but not killed. They shouldn't have been killed. Your friends shouldn't have been killed. G shouldn't be killed. Because all violence does is lead to more violence, and that doesn't get us anywhere, now does it? You look at the wars we've been in, they haven't benefitted anyone, even the winners. People died on all sides, and we get stuck in this tension filled standstill, waiting for someone to do something violently drastic again. The only way anything truly gets solved is through diplomacy, through words. Because words have more profound and prolonged affects on the system then shooting everyone with guns does. That's immature, and stupid, and rash, and I'm still baffled as to why the idea of war is so popular with people these days."

"G isn't society though. G is an asshole, who's possibly not human, who's killing people, who probably won't be able to be stopped unless some kind of violent action against him is taken. We have to do it though, since the police aren't doing jack shit. Would you rather not kill him, and let him kill more, or kill him and stop the murdering at its source?"

"How do you even know it was G who did it?"

"The last time I talked to Luna, she described not only his description, but his name. She gave me that same letter, a G., and both have the same dark hair and darker eyes."

"When I saw him, he had bright red eyes. Can't be him, must be a mere coincidence."

"Frank, you and I both know it's him. He's a serial killer. Before he showed up, murders were a total anomaly. You're just stuck in denial because he saved you from your bullies, and you want to desperately believe he's good because of that. The real 'mere coincidence' here is that Freddy and Jason just happened to be the ones hurting you. Even if they were good people, he would've still killed them." 

"I never believed that their murders were justified or good, when did I say that? Like I already said, you were the one originally who thought they got what they deserved. Fuck, you admitted that you still think that like 5 seconds ago. I just think it's not cool to respond to this with equal amounts of violence. And 'denial'??? There's no denial here, I just don't think he did it. You want to kill him, right? But in my opinion, once you stoop down to that violent level, you're no better than him."

This little snippet of conversation causes the fragile seams holding Otep together to snap, and without thinking, she punches Frank straight in the nose. Her brain is screaming at her, screaming incoherent words full of anger and fury, and adrenaline runs through her veins as she spits,

"Fuck you Frank!! You stupid weak fucking imbecile, get your fucking head out of your ass and open your eyes. He's a killer god damn it, he's a horrible person and he deserves to pay!!! Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, life for a life,"

And with that, Otep gets up, moving though the people to get down the bleacher stairs. The whole audience just stares at her, their heads moving in sync with her body. Some are checking her out, some are just staring at her in disbelief. Some are just looking because this is the most interesting thing that's happened thus far in this useless assembly.

A couple of people in front of Frank ask if he's alright, and he just nods, wiping his bloody nose with his shirt sleeve. He sadly sighs, knowing that with Otep's snap at him, came the possible snap of their long friendship.

Little did the two know that Mikey Way, sibling of the infamous G., is sitting right behind them, listening to their entire dispute. Thiking about Gerard makes him automatically think about Pete now. The two will forever be infinitely connected in Mikey's mind, all because of a twist of a knife, and some words that are far more accurate than Mikey will ever admit outloud. Those words intrude Mikey's mind now, those quotes and letters and sounds, all annunciated very clearly. Piercing their skull like tiny bullets, making his head ache and his eyes feel like they're looking at everything through blurry lenses. 

All of that emotion died with him three fucking years ago.

Your whole world revolves around him, which is fucking unhealthy.

You can't depend on him for shit, and you can't depend on me either.

All of those bodies littering the forests and the streets, those are from him and me.

And you just can't handle the thought that nothing will ever be the same as it once was.

Mikey doesn't want to think about Pete being right. With agreeing with Pete, comes Mikey accepting the fact that Gerard is now a monster. A Frankenstein like murderer, a soul poisoned by Mikey's greed and desperation for the past to be relived again. But the past is just that; the past. It can't come back, it's forever lost into the infinitely stretching complex known as time. It's gone with the passing seasons, gone with the decaying of the leaves, gone with the sun when days turn into nights. Gone. Just gone.

This has caused more damage than reparations, and maybe an idea is starting to bloom in Mikey's mind. They at first dismiss as one of those impulsive violent thoughts, the ones that spontaneously flash through your mind and you immediately get disgusted by their content. But instead of going away instantly, it keeps persisting and showing itself. It makes Mikey want to cry, yet at the same time, the more the idea grows, the more it seems actually twistingly justified. Logical even.  

And to think, Mikey's experience at the assembly actually started off pleasant.

x x x x x x

The setting is the same school and gymnasium, but thirty minutes earlier.

The band blasts the school spirit song, their faces getting cherry red as they continue to blow and huff and spit, trying to get their instruments to play at maximum volume. Mikey Way shuffles up the stairs to get a space in a bleacher by themself. They have no friends to look forward to sitting by, and there's no one that they can even tolerate that goes to this school, so its hard to find a blank space.

Finally, they find a space. It's behind Frank Iero, and the girl that numerous rumors are about, Otep Shamaya. They're not particularly bad people, in fact, Mikey thinks they're kind of cool. But they're too shy to even think of approaching them.

Mikey is shocked when someone does take a spot next to them. Someone who hasn't talked to them since three years back, back when the explosion that caused everything wrong occured, back when the dominoes first were tipped and the world started spinning a million times faster than normal.

Ray Toro.

"Hi Mikey... Nice dress! It flatters your figure quite a bit."

Mikey is, in fact, wearing a dress. It's a navy one, the fabric light enough that it twirls with Mikey if they spin around. Red and sky blue flowers decorate the dress. They were a denim jacket with it, and nice black shoes. On top of their head is a bright red flower crown, and bright lipstick is painted on their lips to match.

"Umm... thank you. This is my first time wearing one."

"Well you should wear them more often! I mean... only if you want to, of course. Like, you look like some kind of nature princess and it's the coolest shit ever."

Mikey grins, raking a hand through their hair. But then they remember that this is Ray Toro, the man who fucking gave up on them such awhile ago, and that grin turns into a grim line.

"Listen, I'm sorry for the bullshit I pulled on you. I should've stood by you, not walked away. I was fucking stupid."

Mikey becomes unresponsive, and they fiddle with their thumbs, trying to pretend that Ray isn't there, that Ray doesn't exist, that this moment is only a nightmare that'll pass with a few small blinks of an eye.

"It's okay if you don't talk. I don't mind the silence anymore."

There used to be long periods of spaced out silences between the two when they talked after Gerard had died. It's what drove them apart. Ray wanted someone who was alive and filled with spirit, someone to talk to, someone to enthuse and get excited with. He didn't want this empty shell of a person. 

And all Mikey had wanted was someone who would understand the grief they were going through. Ray obviously did not.

But the fact of the matter is that for once, Ray isn't shattering the silence with loud words and explosive frustration. Rather, he is letting it be, and Mikey greatly appreciates that. 

"I'm cold,"

Mkey mutters.

With all of the clustered bodies, Ray can't understand why Mikey would be cold. But instead of questioning it, Ray just goes along with it,

"Yeah, I guess it's sorta chilly. I would say we could spoon but, I'm kinda gross at the moment, and I'm pretty sure you still sorta hate me so..."

"It's okay, thanks for the offer though."

The silence then became comfortable, until Mikey overhears Otep and Frank, and the world seems to crash down again.

x x x x x x

"In response to the murders taking place across the city, we would like to enforce a new curfew. This isn't in place just for you teenagers, but also for the adults, and especially the littler children. Everyone must be at their homes by 8 pm. Lights out by midnight. All doors and windows must be locked, and the police will monitor every neighborhood closely. Curfew ends when the sun is up. Don't look at this like its a barrier or a restriction, look at this as a way to better ensure safety to everyone here. Thank you for your time."

Officer Jinxx hands the microphone back to the principal, and watches as the faces of the students contort into expressions of irritability, confusion, and fear.

The students converse amongst themselves, voices shaky and eyes wide like saucers. For you see, school assemblies are never supposed to be important. None of the content in them is ever truly, really, significant.

But this new curfew rule obviously is.

x x x x x


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Mikey play Scrabble, and Gerard tries to give Mikey advice. Later that night, Gerard mourns David Bowie's death, and decides to dye his hair orange in honor of him.  
> Then, the following day, Frank's usual trip to the record store takes a sudden horrible turn, and Mikey makes an important realization that'll change everything.

Mikey and Gerard are currently playing Scrabble.

It's Gerard's turn, and it has been for around ten minutes now. He's determined to get the double word score and the triple letter score, but with his crappy word tiles and the words currently on the board, there's no way he could accomplish that. Even though Mikey already realized this, they just continue to watch as Gerard continues with his routine; shuffling his letters around, skimming through his dictionary, glancing at the board, and then cussing under his breath. The cycle then repeats itself.

Gerard interrupts the silence with a question,

"Are you doing okay Mikey?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"It just looks like something is on your mind. You can talk to me about whatever, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah... It's just. Sometimes it feels like the world is crushing me. I'm so stressed out, and confused, and it's getting to a point where it's getting harder and harder to keep going. I see no point."

"I know that feeling all too well. It's like everyday is the same, right? But yet, if one thing is out of place in the routine, you freak out? It's a struggle between feeling nothing and feeling way too fucking much, and you just wish to be in the middle. Stable median. But that'll never happen, you're always going to have to deal with it in some form or way. It's the magic of mental illness; it's always there, lingering like a storm cloud. You're always wondering when the cloud will have a epic downpour, or when the lightening will strike. But you can't let that shit pull you down. You have to find an umbrella, or some shelter from it. Something or someone to help you cope. But you can't rely on others too terribly much, they have stuggles of their own to face, and you making them solve all of your problems for you only drags them futher into a pit. The only person ultimately who can get you out of your pit of shit is yourself. There's always a light at the end of a tunnel, a sunshine to your skies. I couldn't see that when I was alive. But you need to Mikey; you need to see that there's always a point to this, and that point is to live your life to the fullest."

Gerard places a 'L', a 'O', and a 'E', connecting to the word 'Violence'. Love, the word reads.

"Love is all you need,"

Gerard sing-songs, causing Mikey to crack a smile. 

"Now, is there anything specific you need help figuring out, or was that terrible yet motivational rant sufficient?"

"It's just... there's something I know should be done. It's for the better good. But it'll also really hurt others, and one of those others includes myself."

"Sometimes sacrifices need to be made to do the right thing. If you really believe it's for the best, then go for it."

Gerard has no idea what he's encouraging Mikey to do. Hopefully, these plans will stay just that; plans. Maybe tomorrow, or in a couple days, this idea will perish. 

But if it doesn't, well, then so be it.

x x x x x x

It's late, really late at night. Maybe it's not even the night anymore, its the odd in between of that and morning, when the world is still dark, but the clock is past midnight, signalling the beginning of the next day.

Gerard is flipping through the channels, bored out of his mind. Thinking is too draining, sketching just isn't fun anymore, and he's procrastinating feeding till the curfew ends. Suddenly, he comes across a channel in which he sees David Bowie on, and on the top of the screen there's a large 'breaking news' caption, all in big bold capital letters. The words after almost make Gerard scream, the noise lodged in his throat.

'Dead at 69.'

David Bowie helped Gerard a lot back before this whole vampire thing. He had helped Gerard embrace his feminity, his sexuality, his appearance, and all of his many odd unique quirks. When Gerard listened to David, he felt alive, and he finally felt like he wasn't alone in the world. There was someone out there just as fucking odd as him, and they were successful, and for awhile, that hope of being as big as David Bowie somewhat kept Gerard going. When life brought him down, tore him apart, ripped at every fiber of his being, Gerard would just remember David Bowie, and the mere thought of the dude calmed the screaming in his brain just a little bit.

But now he's fucking dead, and so is Gerard technically, and now there's no hope for either one of them. 

For David, there would be no more new albums, no more tours, no more collaborations, no new friends and no new experiences. Nothing.

Even though Gerard bares this curse of blood drinking, he can still experience and see. Maybe his old identity will never follow their dreams, but this new one can. A name change is simple and easy, dying hair is easy, losing yourself is so fucking easy in this wide vast world of possibilities. And maybe he shouldn't feel bad for himself, maybe he's not entirely hopeless. Maybe he should just be sad about the fact that David can't do such a thing, and he never will, never again.

Gerard suddenly finds himself standing up, and walking towards the bathroom. He opens the small closet by the sink, and sure enough, stashed way behind the pack of toilet paper, bandaids, and old soaps, lies bottles of hair dye. The dyes are a vast range of colors, and his eyes connect with the bright orange one instantly.

"Hopefully this comes out alright," 

Gerard mutters, and pops up the cap. This is all in memory of David Bowie, his childhood hero, the person who for awhile, gave Gerard hope for the future. With one last toast to David, and a cheer of, 

"Here's to you David Bowie. Thanks for the music."

Gerard begins the long tedious hair dying process. As this commences, Gerard decides that for his next robbery, he'll go to the record store. Not just for the cash, but to also get some records to replace the ones he so impulsively snapped.

x x x x x x

Every teenager has their hangout, and for Frank, that hangout is the record store.

He usually goes a couple times a week, checking in on how the employees are doing, scanning the new arrivals section. He's analyzed every nook and cranny of the the store at least a hundred times, he usually knows where to find things. That Jawbreaker CD was an exception, for you see, it had been brought in, scratched and ruined. But the store owns some Scratch Out gel (Frank likes to call it 'Magic Shaving Cream', because that's exactly what it looks like), which cleans off CDs and sometimes even gets off scratches. But anyway, after it was repaired, it wasn't new enough of an arrival to be put with the others, so it was just automatically stacked in with the older J's. Luckily, Patrick (he's the one usually working the counter) tipped him off to it, knowing how much Frank loves that band. 

Patrick hasn't been in since that day. Frank has texted him, and apparently some kind of horrible tragedy happened, and that's why Patrick is taking so much time off. To cope, to get his shit together, to just try to relax and rediscover the peace that once was in his heart.

He won't tell Frank much else about it, and sadly, Frank isn't surprised by the death. It feels like everyone has been dying lately, dropping like flies, and it all honestly scares the shit out of Frank. He recently (as in, around an hour ago) heard that David Bowie had died. Frank has always had major respect for the guy, but he never truly listened to him in depth. He feels like he shouldn't be mourning David's death because of this. But Frank can't help but feel like the world seems to be missing something now, a rather large something, something so big and impactful it left a million star-shaped crater-like holes all over the Earth. 

When he walks into the dormant store, Bob is working the counter. 

Bob is probably Frank's least favorite person besides Freddy and Jason; he's so fucking uptight, and he's one of those kind of guys that puts himself on a pedestal since he doesn't listen to mainstream music. He's got this god awful greasy hair, and he always looks like he just woke up. He doesn't seem to shower, ever, and he always makes snide (and slightly flirtatious) comments at Frank whenever the two are in the store alone.

Basically, Bob is the embodiment of trash.

Frank takes a deep breath, and keeps his gaze aimed at the floor.

"Well hey there sweetums!"

Bob greets, and Frank can practically feel his slimy smirk and scanning eyes on him.

Frank doesn't say a word in response, like he always does when Bob is around. Usually after awhile of ignoring and silence, Bob will shut up and will actually work like he's supposed to. 

But something is different today. Bob doesn't try to continue the conversation, instead, the whole store goes absolutely silent. The heavy awkward quiet punches Frank in the gut, and with a shaky whispery 'oh shit!', he realizes that him and Bob are alone together in the store. 

He hears shuffling behind him as he scans through the B's. He's trying to find some Black Flag, not a certain CD, just anything by them. He sat around yesterday night, shuffling around his CD collection, in order from his top favorites to the ones that were bitter disappointments. He had realized that he lacked in Black Flag, and you shouldn't lack CDs from them, especially if you're Frank Iero and you're obsessed with them to an almost creepy level. 

The stone from Otep is burning again, and for some reason now, that feeling causes him great anxiety. Every time it starts doing that, something strange or something horrid happens. The broken camera, the weird guy that helped him with finding that Jawbreaker CD, now this. What could possibly happen now?

It strikes Frank in slow motion, as he glances up and watches intently as Bob flips the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed'. 

"I thought you were open till way later, aha..."

Frank timidly observes, laughing awkwardly. 

"We usually are,"

Bob bites his lip,

"But I don't feel like working today."

"Then why did you let me in?"

"I wanted some company, obviously. Sulking around with someone else is a lot more fun than it is by yourself."

"Then go out sulk angstily with your other friends man, I have shit to do."

Frank is lying through his teeth, he doesn't want to be in here anymore. Who the fuck cares about the CDs anyway?, he thinks, I could just order them off of Amazon.

"Frank, you've been in here enough times for me to know that you have no life."

"You know what they say about assumptions..."

"Whatever, I'd say mine is pretty well founded. Also the fact that your absence of a life seemed to be a common conversation topic between you and Patrick."

Frank's stone seemed to literally be on fire, and if Frank's eyes were closed, he'd seriously believe that his sweatshirt, hell, waist and up in general, are engulfed in flames. That's how scorching hot the stone is, and Frank might just have a panic attack if this whole strange situation doesn't cease to exist real soon.  
Bob just revealed that he has overheard Frank and Patrick's conversations, to the point of remembering insignificant details like the 'no life' joke. That just petrifies Frank even more, for you see, Patrick and him at times would discuss serious shit. Frank doesn't like the idea of anyone, especially Bob, knowing his personal life without his say so. 

Now the true question is, how much does Bob know?

Frank is trying to ponder this, totally zoning out, and he's suddenly snapped out of it when snake like arms wrap around his waist. He can smell the food and alcohol on Bob's breath, can feel Bob's body tense and untense, as it tries to keep calm. These snakes, they hold him tighter, and Bob seems to coil himself around Frank to the point where it feels like Frank is going to actually suffocate. 

"B's? Bowie?"

"Black Flag."

Frank snaps, and tries pushing Bob off of him, twisting and writhing. He can't breathe, he can't think strategically, his brain just keeps screaming at him to get out. He's trying, god he's trying, tears stream down his face and he's about to yell for help out of desperation. Who would even hear him though? Maybe that's why its the last resort plan, if he can't wriggle free on his own, someone has to get him out of here.

He left his phone at home, thinking that this might be a shorter trip, since he has to get ready for school soon. But oh was he wrong.

"Don't you know the thing about webs?"

Bob spits in his ear,

"The more you struggle, the more stuck you get."

Frank whimpers, and Bob shoves Frank against the table, causing the crate of CDs on top of it to crash on the floor. All these different colors and genres and titles, they scatter around Frank's plain black and white converse, some even fall painfully on top of them. Even though he almost fell himself, he did not, so Frank believes he still has a chance to get out. 

Frank moves to the right, trying to run around Bob, but on the first step, Bob pushes him back against that table. The other crate falls, and now all thats there is a bleak white empty surface. Bob walks as close as he physically can to Frank, and pins him down.

Frank is now bent over backwards, his legs feebly trying to kick Bob off, his arms now powerless.

"Are you done struggling yet honeybee?"

Every part of Frank feels like it's exploding, and he's so exhausted. He's seconds away from giving in, just letting Bob do his worse so he can just go back home and take the most fiery stinging shower he's ever taken. He wants every bit of filth Bob has contaminated with to be cleaned off. Not just cleaned, obolished, obliterated, destroyed. Never to be seen or thought of again. 

"Alright, alright. Fine. Just fucking get it over with,"

Frank cries, finally letting all of his limbs go limp.

"Are you not going to fight back? At all?"

"No,"

Frank mumbles sadly.

Bob unpins Frank's arms, and licks his chapped lips. He looms over Frank, wondering where he should start first.

Frank stares at the door, focuses on it, trying to space out and let himself go numb. But an unexpected surprise soon comes when a customer approaches the door. The man has bright orange hair, and dark eyes. He has a familiar face, maybe Frank has seen him at school at some point.

The man catches Frank's eye, and he realizes that this could be his chance. He mouths 'help' to the stranger. The annunciating of the letters though makes Bob notice, and he darts his head around.

The stranger storms in, and Bob starts to charge at the guy. 

But the stranger does something no one else expects.

He pulls out a gun, a shiny black weapon of death, and aims it right between Bob's eyes. The trigger is pulled, and a large boom echoes throughout the store.

Frank cautiously glances over, and sees that the man's shot hit his target right on the bulls eye. Blood surrounds Bob like a halo, the whites of his eyes gleam slightly in the dim lighting. The man then sets his sights on Frank, and Frank becomes even more terrified than before. First the shit with Bob, now this? Is this his death day? Is it time for him to go to heaven, or hell, or wherever souls go in the afterlife? He doesn't want to know what it's like not to breathe. Breathing keeps him stable, it reminds him of the realness of his surroundings, and it grounds him down to Earth. 

Frank is paralyzed from head to toe, 

"Please don't hurt me man..."

x x x x x x

Gerard analyzes Frank, the vibrant explosive fear entirely evident in his big innocent eyes. He's standing now, but he's so jittery that Gerard wouldn't be surprised if he ended up falling. He's as pale as a ghost, and his composure is just as faint. His hands are held high, his mouth slightly agape, words wanting to be said but never making it past the large lump lodged in his throat. 

Gerard is conflicted; should he continue with being intimidating and harsh, or should he reassure Frank that he won't hurt him? Surely it would be smarter if Gerard went with his original plan of having no relationships with people outside of Mikey. It would be so much better, and so much more simple. Like he's already paranoid enough about getting caught and found out, this would make it all impossibly worse. 

But on the other hand, Frank almost just got raped, and being a harsh horrible person isn't going to help obviously, it'll only further traumatize him.

A couple of rogue blood drops are slowly running down Frank's cheeks, mixing with liquid glitter tears. Gerard finally seems to absorb it all in, all of the blood in front of him, and it's harsh stench. It smells so fucking good, and it makes Gerard's whole body race and scream with possibility, making controlling his animalistic impulses that much more difficult.

"Look, just take the money and leave, please! I won't tell anyone about this, I promise. Just don't fucking kill me."

Frank's desperate pleas are just empty echos ringing in Gerard's brain as he focuses more and more on the irresistable blood smeared all over the floor. He glides over to the body, gun still in hand, and looms over it. And now it's not even just the blood, it's how disgusting this guy is, and how his face will most likely haunt Frank's dreams every night. Without a second thought, Gerard draws the gun, and shoots Bob's face at point blank range, again and again, until Gerard runs out of ammunition.

Now it's not even a recognizable face, it's just a mess of gore and brain matter, and Frank looks like he's going to be sick. 

x x x x x x

The man glances up at Frank, blood smeared like warpaint all over his face. His eyes are cold and calculating, and now he appears even more intimidating than before. He licks the blood off of his lips, and Frank automatically flashes back to how Bob did that, seconds before his life was cut abruptly short.

Frank suddenly can't breathe, not at all, and it takes a few moments for him to realize that he's having a severe panic attack, one that he doesn't quite know how to handle.

The world is blurry, and that memory keeps repeating itself over and over, and every sense experienced in that very second washes over him, pounding him, drowning him and dragging him deeper and deeper within himself. 

It takes the bloody murderer (and also oddly his savior) gripping his shoulders and calmly telling him over and over to breathe in order to break him out of his state. 

The man now has a large wad of cash in his sweatshirt pocket, and the records 'The Rise and Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars' and 'David Bowie aka Space Oddity' shoved in a plastic bag acquired from the counter.

Frank shrinks back, and the man lets go of him. 

"Please---"

"Don't. I'm not going to hurt you."

x x x x x x

"But---"

"Are you seriously going to argue with me over why I shouldn't hurt you?"

"It's just... I'm a witness. Wouldn't you want to kill me?"

"No, not really. Everything will be taken care of. Even if you do tell them every single bloody detail, it's not going to do anything to help them catch me. In fact, they probably will try to pin it on you, since you would admit to being in the exact same room at the exact same time this dick got killed. These cameras can be easily disabled, the bloody CDs and floorboards discarded. I found this gun just lying on the ground in gang territory. The one who attacked me to try to get it back is dead himself."

"What about the DNA evidence?"

"My DNA belongs to a dead man."

"So you--"

"Faked my death? Afraid not. I shot myself in the head with a gun. Not one similar to this---"

He gestures to the one he's holding,

"-- though, it was a different kind."

"But--"

"No butts, unless we're talking about fucking. Now honey, I humbly suggest casually walking out and pretending that nothing ever happened here okay?"

"Wait... apparently undead... not killing me even though I could easily sell you out... G.?"

Gerard doesn't acknowledge the name, he only tenderly wipes a couple drops of stray blood drops off of Frank's cheek with his sleeve.

"It is you. It's definltely you. But why do you keep doing this killing shit?"

Gerard sighs, and backs away. He mumbles,

"Why are you so god damn persistant? Why can't you be a fucking idiot like everyone else?"

"That last bit is where you're wrong. I am an idiot, obviously if I wasn't I would've run out of here by now. Now, answer my god damn question, please."

"I suppose that's true. Alright, fine, you want answers, you can have them. If you're looking forward to some some phychologically complex and deep answer, that's not what you're going to get."

"That's alright."

Gerard stuffs his hands into his pockets, preparing to make probably the most stupid mistake of his entire existence, alive and undead lives combined,

"I have to. I'm a fucking vampire; I feed off of blood and all of that shit. I don't burn in the sun, I can eat garlic just fine, I can see my ugly face in the mirror. Most cliches are totally and utterly false. There. Is that what you wanted?"

"Why do you keep sparing me though?"

"Because you remind me too much of my fucking self. I can't kill myself again, and I can't bring myself to kill you either. You're just... ugh. Fuck. Can we be done with twenty questions now?"

Frank can't help but notice that G., the intimidating vampire who's killed so many people, who just shot Bob to death right in front of him, is fucking blushing. 

"Alright. Just one last thing. What's your full name?"

"It's Gerard."

"Oh. Gerard? I like that. It's cool, unique. A lot like you as a person."

"You don't even know me, you--"

"Idiot? Yeah. I told you I was one, aha. Flirting with a vampire is probably the most stupid thing one can do. I guess I'll see you later. Probably next time I have a near death experience? You seem to protect me almost, which is really fucking weird. Even though you don't know me well. Ah! We agree on something. Us not knowing each other well seems to be an issue. Maybe we could go out and do something sometime?"

"Do you even get that I'm a fucking murderer? At all?"

"Yes but, you do it for survival. You can't control yourself man, it's not like you really want to kill people."

"But--"

"Didn't you yourself say 'no butts unless we're talking about fucking'? Just accept it, I don't think you're that bad of a person. I'm gonna go, that'll give you some time to clean all of this shit up. Bye Gerard. Have a nice day, okay?" 

And with that, Frank exits, and Gerard is left with an empty silence and baffled thoughts. Frank doesn't see him as a murderer, but as a protecter. Possibly as a love interest as well, which is fucking odd. Not to mention that Gerard does have control over his killing. He targets specific people because he can see that they're weaker physically, or he can tell that they're easier to sway. Sure his main motive is for feeding, but that still makes him a predator. Plus, Gerard got a fucking kick out of killing curly and ginger, the two towering bullies who loved to antagonize people for the hell of it. The rush of the violent chaos in general also makes him feel powerful and alive, and he wishes that Frank could just see that and fuck off.  
Two people don't see him for what he truly is now, looking at him through glamorized and glittery lenses. It's not right, it's not fair, he'd give anything to snap Mikey and Frank out of their trances. But that's seems impossible, looking at how the two talk to him and address him.

Or at least, so he thinks.

Because at this very moment, Mikey Way is mulling over their horrible plan, and their position on going through with it solidifies as they watch the world outside of their small window. A world who's routine is drastically changed. There's no early morning joggers, there's no kids lined up at the bus stop, there's no bustling and noise. It's all just unsettling silence, and they notice a rare couple of others glancing out of their windows. The only difference being that they look out in paranoia, and Mikey glances out in curiousity. 

So many people are terrified of being slaughtered by Gerard, and Mikey finally begins to admit to themself that Gerard is indeed a dirty thief, not because of the money he's stolen, but because of the lives he takes daily. Everyday, another few more people are gone, and more and more holes are poked into this weak structure of a town. Everyday, more spirals akin to Mikey's begin, everyday more and more dominoes fall, and soon, there will be nothing left of anyone here. The town will be a haunted house, the place filled with dreary ghosts and poked through sheets, beady eyes and eternal decay. 

Mikey doesn't want that to happen, and realizes just how fucking selfish they've been acting this entire time.  
They shut the curtain, and wander over to the table, where the remains of the sibling's Scrabble game still lie. They scan over every word, and repeatedly find themselves staring at the final word they themself had placed on there.

Betrayal.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey asks Otep for help with their newest plan. Gerard and Frank meet up, and hang out in Frank's treehouse. After school, Otep's nausea is only getting worse, as she finds herself vomiting in a trash can down town. But her horrible mood greatly improves after seeing a familiar face.

Mikey can't believe what they're currently doing, they can't really comprehend it all. It feels impulsive, like something they'd do piss drunk, when their judgement is just as blurry as their vision. Like something they'd forget about when they'd wake up the next day, and their friends would hold ripped strips of this quilt memory. They'd stitch it back together, and it would be beautifully tragic and utterly stupid, and they'd all laugh at it like it's the funniest god damn thing in the world.

But this isn't like that, this is just pure utter fucking dumbness, or maybe it's brilliant logic. Maybe it's like those old time scientists and artists, ridiculed at first for their abstract ideas, but later people finally realize how great they actually were.

Or maybe Mikey just needs to shut up and try to at least grasp what they're actually planning to do here; is this right, is this really the right thing to do? Or is Mikey finally off their rocker once and for all?

Either way, they're making their way towards Otep. She stands by her locker, grabbing her Pre-Calculus book. Her earbuds are loud, so loud that Mikey can detect the song just by the vague instrumentals and vocals they hear; Chop Suey! by System of a Down.

They hate to interrupt people when they're listening to music, especially when they're as into it as her. She's tapping the rhythm on her locker, humming passionately along. There's a bounce to her movements as she swings her backpack over her shoulder and kicks the locker shut. The once open padlock comes back together with a quick 'click', and that's when her and Mikey make direct eye contact.

They continue towards her, and recieving the hint that this stranger is about to approach, she pauses the song and gives Mikey her worst glare,

"This better be fucking important, I just paused my favorite song for you."

Mikey almost snickers because of her stereotypical angst, but stops themself. They remember what they came here for, what they needed to say.

They sigh,

"I know Gee... personally."

Otep drops everything she's holding; her books, her various electronic devices, her facade of not giving a single shit about anything at all. Because this, this is the one thing she cares desperately about, this piece of shit, this monster of a human being who took her love away. This person, whoever the fuck they are, could be the key to her getting her justice.

"How?"

She finally manages to get out.

"He's my brother. I sorta umm... raised him from the dead?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Have you not seen any horror movies, like at all?! You should know that that shit never goes well. Christ almighty... so what's this piece of shit's name? Yours too? How did you even know I was looking for him? Just... I need the whole story, and I need it now."

"I'm Mikey Way. My brother is Gerard. He killed himself a few years back and... I brought him back using a spellbook I got from the library--"

"Oh, even more great, you brought black magic into this too, huh? God, you're an imbecile."

"Don't remind me. I guess there was something I didn't read, cause now he goes out and does this killing shit and... I hate to do this, he's my brother but... I think it'd be better if he was gone. I overheard you talking to that Frank kid and... I thought it'd make you feel better if you helped me do the deed that would, well, do him in. For good."

"You better not be bullshitting me on this Mikey Way, I swear to God.... I'm going to kick your ass if you're lying to me about any of this."

"Why would I lie? What good would that do?"

"Everyone has their motives, I don't fucking know. I need more than your word on this. If you're telling me the truth, I'll need a few pieces of evidence. That spell you used, and the book where it came from, first off. And I'll need to see not only your brother's grave, but his empty coffin too. I don't trust you at all, so I'm going to bring a couple friends on our little cemetary visit in case you try to pull shit on me. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

Otep huffs, starting to pick up her stuff,

"Meet me back at this exact spot, and exact time, tomorrow. With the spellbook and the bookmarked spell. Then, we can proceed forward with the cemetary portion."

Without even a goodbye, Otep storms off, leaving Mikey to contemplate silently the events they just set into motion.

x x x x x

Frank Iero walks out of school, expecting to see the normal setting of sidewalks branching off into different blocks and streets, long and decaying grass, and what seems like an eternal sky of dreary clouds. But instead, added to all of that, is a rather familar person sitting on the grass, reading a comic book. His flame-like hair is a bright splatter of color amongst such a dreary backdrop.

"Gerard? What the hell are you doing here?"

Frank asks, sorta scared yet intrigued.

"You said you wanted to do something,"

Gerard mumbles, never looking up from his comic book,

"So lets go. Your choice."  

x x x x x

Frank chose for the two of them to simply go back to his house.

Gerard wasn't too surprised; Frank didn't seem like the type of person who'd want to go out for a night on the town. He seems like the comfy type, the kind of person who would rather just sit at home and play video games or watch movies on Netflix. Gerard finds himself liking this a lot; formality always feels forced and faked, like a constant masquerade. You never know who you're really talking to, until later in the night, when it's 3 am, and the mask slips off. Whether it falls, whether it's delibrately taken off, it's off, and it won't be put back on. Because dancing around topics and smiling while feeling like you're being suffocated is tiring, bloody exhausting in all honesty, and the image doesn't seem to be quite important in secret moments like this.

The two have just arrived at Frank's house. Gerard finds the house's aesthetic rather cute; the outside is painted with a peeling bright sunshiney yellow. There's two large oak trees, their branches twisting and churning, reaching up towards the sky. The tree on the right has a tire swing, the rope tied in a tight knot around a seemingly stable looking branch. The tree on the left has a small quaint treehouse nestled inside the canopy of leaves. There's no ladder or steps or rope leading up to it, and the outside of that is painted green. Maybe to camoflauge it? Or maybe Frank just really likes that color? Who knows, certainly not Gerard.

Frank takes notice of Gerard checking out the treehouse,

"Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to live in the trees. Back then, it was so I could be closer to my favorite animal at the time, the monkey. Nowadays, when I go up there, I go to get away from everything. It feels like nothing can touch me up there, like I'm safe from all harm. I have this all knowing perspective of what's going on below, like if someone were to try to come up here and hurt me, I could prepare myself for it. I could save myself."

"So down here, you don't think you would be able to save yourself?"

Frank and Gerard's eyes are still aimed on the treehouse, not looking at one another as the conversation takes an even deeper personal turn,

"No, not at all. Down here, I'm just a pest, an insignificant insect that can easily be smashed. I have no power, no authority, no nothing. Up there... I can at least pretend I do. You should know this... I couldn't do shit when I was sexually assaulted... I couldn't fight back, I was about to give up. If you hadn't had come in, I would've been raped. Or worse."

"You can't put yourself in that mindset Frank. You fucking can't. You always have to fight back, if you just let yourself be the victim of all the shit you recieve, it's not going to improve your situation at all. That's going to be the thing that kills you in the end. I know that more than anyone, because guess what buddy, that's what ended up fucking killing me. I'm dead because I made myself be the victim, I let the world crush me to a pulp. And look where I am now. I'm a fucking vampire who kills not only to feed, but for the hell of it as well."

"I thought you said you only killed because you have to?"

"I did. But you don't understand Frank; kiling because you have to is just as bad. You have to scope out people, choose the victims that are the weakest. Then you attack. I'm just as bad as those people who kill for sexual pleasure, who kill for revenge, who kill out of hatred and judgment. I am a fucking monster, and it baffles me how you trust me enough to invite me over to your house."

"You're not as bad. The fact that you admit it says enough in itself."

"Just because I'm self aware, doesn't make me a better person."

"You're not just self aware though; you're sorry. You're fucking sorry for all of the shit you've done."

"Sorry isn't going to take anything back though. Sorry doesn't do shit."

The two stand there in silence for a moment. 

Suddenly, Gerard jumps in shock, as he feels Frank's warm hand grab onto his,

"Come on. I wanna show you my treehouse, and the view from the window, so you get what I'm talking about."

Frank doesn't let go of his hand, and Gerard doesn't know how to react; Should he scream, should he rip his hand away, should he make a comment about it? Fuck, Gerard thinks, fuck fuck fuck fUCK. This is so awkward, he hasn't felt this stiff and weird since he was alive.

The tree looms over the two, capturing them in it's shadow.

"How do we get up there?"

Gerard asks, relieved when Frank finally lets go of his hand.

"Don't you know how to climb a tree?"

"Fuck no."

x x x x x

Otep is vomiting; vomiting in a public trash can, which is really embarassing. But this nausious feeling just wont't go away; this burning, ripping through her entire body, making her feel constantly shaky and weak. 

This whole day has been really hard on her. She knows it's because of Frank; that piece of shit seems to always be getting himself into trouble. She's trying not to worry about it, since the two aren't friends anymore. But she just can't help it, especially with these horrible physical side affects. 

That boy just has too much faith in people. He thinks everyone has a small bit of good in them, and he has this dumb belief that he can help that bit expand, expand until every bit of that person's personality is glittering with goodness. 

He's so fucking naive, and it confuses the hell out of Otep that someone who is a conspiracy theorist, someone who has doubts in every aspect of the government and what they're hiding, can trust people so easily. 

After emptying her stomach, she stumbles over to a nearby bench. There's another person sitting by her, a hood covering their head. The sihlouette looks so familar, the curves of their body being hugged by their clothes. A few ringlets peak out of their hood, their nails being chipped and chewed on. They're smoking a cigarette, the smoke escaping and fading into the cold air.

"O,"

The person says hoarsely. They finally turn their head towards Otep, their face barely recognizable. Bruises decorate their neck and jaw, and the area around their right eye is black and blue. Their lip is busted and swollen, and dry blood is still present on there. Regardless of the all of these disfiguring wounds, Otep knows who this stranger is. She thought she would never see her again, and almost cries as she exclaims,

"Lu--"

"Shhh..."

Luna shushes. She sighs as Otep asks softly,

"How did you... what... where have you been? I thought you were dead..."

"I was damn close to it... But no, I didn't die... Just as he was going for my neck, I headbutted him the hardest I could... He stumbled back, and I pushed him away, giving me a clean getaway. But this wasn't until after awhile of struggling..."

"But... I only got there a few minutes after your call ended, how could you be struggling for awhile when it all happened in seconds..."

"Oh. Time feels weird when you're fighting for your life. Every moment seems to stretch for hours, every move you make seems slow and awkward. It's all so... surreal."

"If you got away quickly... those wounds must've been from something else..."

"The majority of these are from before I escaped the second time, in which he dragged both Angelica and I into the alleyway... He kept trying to attack her and... I defended her the best I could. I told her to run. But she wouldn't, she said she didn't want to leave me behind. When he finally gave me this sucker of a black eye, and I was down on the ground, she jumped on top of him. Then... she was as good as dead. He flipped her over immediately, pinned her down... I knew I had to get out, so I just... left her there."

Every detail of the story is barely spoken out. It's almost completely inaudible, and the look on Luna's face says it all. She doesn't want to talk about it, her eyes are distant, staring at a projector screen only seen by her; flashing moving pictures, snippets of instrumentals from various films like Halloween and Nightmare On Elm Street, they play in a horror movie montage. The killer, striking her down, looming over her with the coldest most callous look in his eyes. Then the beacon of hope comes, someone who Luna thought would never do such a brave deed. Angelica had to have known that this was basically suicide, that she would most certainly die attempting to save Luna. Or maybe she didn't think about death, maybe she was only thinking of Luna's safety, and her certain cruel end was just an afterthought.

"Lulu?"

Luna is only snapped out of her haze for a moment, long enough for her to get out,

"Hmm?"

"I said that I'm happy that you're alive, and that I'm sorry about Angelica. But you still haven't answered my original question. Where have you been? Certainly not on the streets..."

"The answer to that may just upset you."

"Well?"

"Lindsey. I've been shacking up with Lindsey for the last few days."

Lindsey Ballato is Luna's incredibly toxic ex-girlfriend. She's an E.R surgeon at the local hospital, and her schedule varies with each day. On a particularly cool night, Lindsey got off the graveyard shift early (she had been feeling particularly sick all day. She didn't know whether it was a common cold, or allergies, or something more serious. She thought of her patients, and decided that it'd overall just be best if she went home.). Along the way home, she had spotted Luna. Luna, at the moment, had been strutting around, trying to wave over cars to usher in potential customers. Angelica and the rest of them were all near her, doing the same thing. Lindsey had known that they were all prostitutes, and out of pity (and although she would never admit it, hard hitting drowning loneliness), she payed Luna to go home and have a nice casual dinner with her. As the days passed, they developed a bit of a fling. It was lovely, and Lindsey seemed all around amazing, until she became rather controlling of Luna. She didn't want Luna to hang around her 'trashy' friends. She claimed that they were bad influences, and that they were only bringing her farther and farther downhill. 

She had thrown out all of Luna's wardrobe without her permission, and bought her clothes that she deemed 'respectable'. She didn't even stop there, she also criticized Luna's body itself, commenting on how thin it was, how apparently unhealthy and gross it looked. 

It all reached a breaking point when Lindsey told her she couldn't go out of the house by herself anymore. That's when Luna finally realized that Lindsey wasn't as great as she originally thought. 

Luna had always thought of love as a partnership; you put in an equal amount of work, you get an equal award. You treat one another as that as well; equals. Luna quickly saw that Lindsey thought she was superior to Luna, in every way possible. Appearance wise, intelligence wise, attitude wise, etc. She never treated Luna equally; she saw Luna as a child to be taken care of and molded, molded into a damsel in distress, a damsel that would depend on her for each and every damn thing.

But Luna refused to play damsel, and she also refused to deal with any more bullshit insults. So, she broke off from Lindsey, and went right back to living on the streets.

The situation was scary for about a month or two after that. Luna would see Lindsey's sleek black Subaru creeping around the block, her dark eyes peering out the pristine glass window, analyzing every nook and cranny to find Luna. 

It took Esmerelda confronting her and punching her in the mouth to finally get Lindsey to screw off.

"Lindsey? Fuck, Luna, you know how she is!"

"Obviously... But I needed a doctor anyway, I was bleeding everywhere. I would never actually go to the hospital, they'd turn me right in to the police. Desperate times call for desperate measures..."

"So... Is she like... being shitty like before?"

"Not yet but... I can't go back out on the streets until my wounds heal up... like hell, who would wanna fuck someone who looks like a bruised moldy fruit? She's my only option. You would be my first choice, but you have parents, and how would you even explain such a thing to them? 'Oh hey guys, can my prostitute friend Luna stay here for awhile?'"

"But... you can't go back to her... you can't..."

"This is the best and only option for now. I'll be okay, just trust me." 

But Otep is having a hard time believing that this will all turn out well, not just because of Lindsey and who she is, but also because nothing ever really seems to go nicely. There's always a catch, a possible consequence, and Otep is terrified as to what that might just be this time.

x x x x x

"Wow. I can understand why you might feel a bit above everyone up here. Although the view isn't too spectacular in all honesty, all I see are empty sidewalks, the grass, the gravel road, and the occasional car."

"The view isn't the best because you're not looking up. You have to look up at the sky. It's better with the stars, although I'm pretty sure I won't be seeing the stars anytime soon because of that damn curfew."

The two boys are sitting on their knees, their shoulders squished together as they glance out the small window. 

Gerard chuckles,

"The whole reasoning behind that curfew is me. I'm not going to hurt you, so I don't think you have to worry about it. You can stare at the stars for as long and as much as you want."

Frank's lips turn up, forming a small smile,

"Okay... Do you mind if I ask you some more questions about what you are?"

"I thought I answered all of them but... alright."

"Do you have to drink human blood, or can you drink other kinds of blood too?"

"I don't drink animal blood, I don't fucking sparkle, are we seriously going through Twilight related questions?"

"No, no, no. That wasn't related to that, I swear. Scientific shit."

"Scientific shit? So what, are you gonna want to know how my body works and all of that? So you can make hypothesises and get evidence and go through that whole scientific cycle thing, where the last step is, if I remember correctly, sharing your information to the world? Am I some kind of alien phenomenon? An experiment? A new species?"

Gerard is surprised to find that his tone is not aggressive, rather it's sad in nature.  
He broke, snapped, crushed, threw into oblivion his own promise to himself, to not associate with people outside of Mikey. He wants this to be worth the stupidity, worth the absence of logic, and worth the possibility of knocking his fragile house of cards that he's constructed so carefully. But if this is all this friendship will be, just Frank constantly prodding him and treating him like he's some kind of oddity to be studied, then Gerard will end up not only feeling even more dumb, but also feeling a bit heartbroken. This would only further shove it in his face that he's no longer ordinary, that he's a monster, that he's dead and has been that way for three years now.

Gerard desperately wants to pretend that none of that is true for once, and he wants to do it with Frank. Can't they just discuss something typical, something normal, like they did before they climbed up here?

"I... I'm sorry. I just... I like knowing how people and things work..."

"It's alright... I get it, vampire in your presence, of course you're going to ask questions... should get used to it if I decide to actually become a part of society at some point."

"Do you think you will ever try, honestly?"

"Not at the moment... I have no control around blood at all."

"How are you controlling yourself around me?"

"To be honest, the only reason why I'm not sucking your blood at the moment is because I completely drained that one asshole's corpse earlier today. Think I'm full until at least around midnight or so."

"The only reason, hmm?"

Frank asks suggestively, hoping for some kind of flirty or romantic response in return.

"Yeah. My thoughts and feelings are no match for my hunger shit. When that takes over, it feels like I'm a completely different person... Not even a person... just a beast. Everything is heightened, I can hear pulses ring in my ears, talking becomes muffled, and blood... It calls for me, sings to me like a siren. I don't usually remember much after that... All I usually know is that afterwords, I'm covered in blood and a corpse is usually lying dead in front of me."

"Damn..."

"Yeah."

Frank contemplates this situation for a moment. He's sitting here, talking to his best friend's crush's killer. He just learned that Gerard barely has any control around blood, and Frank's honestly questioning why he hasn't run away yet. 

Not to mention that secretly, he sorta wants to make out with Gerard at the moment. How much of a dumbass is he?

Frank takes his eyes away from the sky, the sun just beginning to set, and glances at Gerard. 

Gerard is still looking at the sky, his light red lips pursed in a tight line. His eyes are a muddy brown, and he keeps rubbing them occasionally, groaning. His pale skin reminds Frank of the snow, and he's probably just as cold. 

"Can I see your teeth?"

Gerard turns towards him, and does an obviously sarcastic grin, showing off all of his teeth.  
They're mostly small, except for the four extremely sharp and long fangs, two on the top, two on the bottom. 

"Can I stop now?"

Gerard tries saying through his teeth, but it comes out incoherent,

"This is hurting my cheeks."

Frank giggles, 

"You must be speaking gibberish, I have no fucking clue as to what you just said. But honestly, you look cute smiling like this."

Gerard stops smiling, and blushes a bright red,

"Stop it."

"Nah, I don't think I will."

Once Gerard realizes how incredibly close the two are, how if he moved one inch, he'd be kissing this stupid fucker, he turns back toward the window,

"So, you say you come up here to escape. What are you trying so hard to escape from?"

"The past, the present, the future. Time, numbers, calculations. Apocalypses, new beginnings. Seniors, adults, teenagers, children. Everything and nothing at all."

"How poetic."

"I don't know how else to phrase it... I just want to get away... not necessarily from everything but... like from a lot of things...."

"You know what I personally want to get away from?"

"What Gerard?"

"Myself. I want to get away from myself."

"Then.... let's not talk about you. Lets discuss politics and religion, or masturbation and kinks. Lets talk about the taboo, let's talk about the things we're never supposed to discuss with others, lets think about broken inventions and faulty ideas. Let's just... pretend the world isn't spinning at unimaginable speeds, that this moment is infinite, that we can relax and stay here forever, and nothing will go wrong."

"Dude... You're now starting to sound like a fucking tumblr post. But whatever, I guess I'm cool with that."

x x x x x

Luna and Otep are now sitting together at a table in the library. The two are whsipering, so no one gets too bothered by their constant chatter.

Otep knows she needs to bring up the matter of Gerard to Luna, but she doesn't quite know how to after hours of light hearted conversation. Not to mention, Luna doesn't want to talk about the event at all, assuming from what Otep observed earlier.

"Umm... Luna... I gotta tell you something serious."

"What?"

"I... I think I know who attacked you... full name and everything, if the piece of shit isn't lying to me..."

"Wait, seriously? Who is it?"

"His name is Gerard Way... His idiot sibling brought him back from the dead using black magic."

Luna's eyes go wide, and she spits,

"Are you fucking kidding me?! All of this damage was caused because some weak fucker couldn't learn the concept of coping and getting help? Great. What's the dumbass's name?'

"Mikey Way. They obviously had no idea how to use magic, or how to keep the natural balance of things. I'm so fucking pissed."

"So why did they tell you this?"

"They... They want me to help them kill Gerard. I demanded evidence from them, asked them for the spell and the book it came out of. Then they has to show me Gerard's grave, and his empty coffin."

"Smart... But also, look, if Gerard the person who tried to kill me... First off, he's extremely strong, and also very nimble and quick. He'll give you a fighting chance, make you think you might get out alive, and then... Then he'll strike. Like... ah shit, I hate to break it to you, but there's no way in hell you'll get out of there alive, especially if Mikey is as stupid as you're describing. You'll get hurt, and vengeance isn't worth losing yourself over. If Mikey wants to kill him, let them do it by themself. They're the one who caused this mess, and they have to be the one who ends it. Don't fucking get involved."

"But you got out, why couldn't I--"

"No! Don't fucking fight with me about this. I know what Gerard is like. You don't. So shut up, and realize that if you get into this, it's a god damn death trap. Besides, if Mikey fails at killing Gerard, karma will get him eventually anyway. Let's just let it do it's job, and not intervene. The balance is so off whack already, let's not screw it up anymore." 

Otep falls into silence, not knowing exactly how to argue with that. She knows Luna has a good point, but she can't help but feel bad for Mikey. If Mikey is indeed being legit, and she lets them do this on their own, they could get killed. Mikey would just be another body, another life lost, another number on the skyrocketing death toll. 

Sure what they did was stupid, sure this was all sorta their fault, but they didn't know the consequences of it. They just thought they'd get their brother back, and that'd be that. 

Poor Mikey, Otep thinks, poor innocent fucked up Mikey. If only things could ever be that simple, if only the world could revolve around the people in it instead of the sun... 

x x x x x


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Frank talk some more before Gerard leaves to feed. Mikey looks quite aesthetically pleasing. Oh, and they and Otep get into a bit of a scuffle.

"So, on average, about how many times a day do you, ya know, touch yourself?"

Frank asks casually.

The two boys are laying on the treehouse floor, the words between them being whispered. Outside, a couple of police cars line the streets, the officer's eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. Their windows are down, ears perked up to every noise out of place, and their occasional check ins with one another via phone and walkie talkie can easily be heard. 

Gerard doesn't know what time it is, but Frank's voice is fizzing out like a radio station with a bad signal, and his pulse is pounding like a fucking drum. Gerard knows that he's getting hungry, and his thoughts are sorta fading in and out. His concentration is horrible, and his memory is faltering him, and he can feel his personality sorta slipping out of his weak grasp. 

But regardless of all of these various distractions majorly fucking up his senses, he does hear Frank's rather blunt question, and he chuckles to himself. 

The subjects that have been discussed are blurred together in Gerard's mind, but he can full heartedly state that this has been one of the most interesting and fun conversations he's ever had with another person.

"Well, I can't sleep at all. I don't have school, or a job. I don't have any goals and aspirations to work towards. So honestly Frank, what else do you think I would do in my free time?"

Frank grins,

"So is that more than 5 times a day?"

"You need Jesus,"

Gerard mutters,

"I don't know, you think I actually keep track? Then again... it all really depends on solely three factors that vary with each day; loneliness, boredom, and how much I crave affection and sex... mostly affection though. To be honest... I know this may sound unbelievable, since I joke about it all the time, but... sex seems almost scary nowadays, because I know I probably wouldn't even be able to control myself being that close to a human being... I'd end up killing them in the most intimate moments of it all. Some may think of it as beautifully tragic, but nothing about killing is pretty. Nothing about never being able to feel that high with someone is gorgeous. It's just shitty. Just fucking shitty."

The words seem to almost ring in the air, echoing in Frank's mind. He can't help but feel bad for Gerard.  
He can't imagine how it'd feel to never be able to be that close with someone, to never be able to slam into someone and hear them moan your name, to never be able to have those desperate sloppy kisses during and in between. To never see someone in their most animalistic yet purely gorgeous state. To never be able to fully let go and give in, and to completely forget all of the world and reality around you, just for the night. 

Gerard glances at Frank, whom is now hopelessly scrambling for a verbal response. He definitely has one mentally prepared, his lips are parted and there's multiple 'umm's and 'I's, but he's trying to phrase it correctly without making everything even more tense than it already is. 

With each passing moment, Frank's heart seems to pound faster and faster, his cheeks flushing an increasingly deep scarlet. His eyes are focused on the window, the stars sparkling like jewels. Not once does he look at Gerard again, because that's the thing with talking about taboo topics; they're fun to discuss at first, but it's very easy to say the wrong thing and make things awkward and tense. 

Frank looks so beautiful and vulnerable, and some part of Gerard just wants to devour him.  
It'd begin with a soft kiss, and with that, it'd slowly escalate to a making out of sorts. Fireworks would go off, and Gerard would plant kisses down his neck, until Gerard hits the sweet spot. Then he'd bite, the fireworks becoming simply fire, and it'd burn Frank alive. Gerard would continue sucking, watching Frank slowly become weak, crumbling and collapsing like a withering flower on the floor, and then--

With that vivid image replaying over and over in Gerard's mind, he decides that for Frank's safety, it'd definitely be best to leave and go get a snack.

Gerard crawls over to the window, and glances out, analyzing the layout. 

In the police car closest, there's a small guy who's chubby and squat. He's by himself, and he's currently indulging in a hamburger and some fries from McDonalds. 

Gerard knows there's others close by, possibly a block away. But if he acts quickly, he can snatch and get the officer under control without him making a sound.

"Frank,"

Gerard unintentionally growls,

"I gotta go eat. See ya later."

And with that, Gerard crawls through the small window, and jumps off the tree, landing feet first on the ground.

And Frank goes over to where Gerard was just at seconds ago, and watches Gerard as he makes his way slowly and strategically to the car. 

The officer begins to glance around, previously hearing the slap of Gerard landing on the ground. The quickly advancing shuffling noise makes him nervous, and he begins to eat rather fast, like you'd do while you watch a suspenseful part of a movie. But after checking in with his fellow officers stationed nearby, and eating a particularly juicy bite of his food, he begins to mellow. 

Gerard is right by the car now, literally right by the passengers side. The window is open, but the door is locked. Quickly, Gerard reaches his hand in and unlocks it. 

It makes a noise, but the officer is foolish enough to believe it's coming from the opposite direction. 

Frank sees Gerard grin devilishly, and to be honest, Frank thinks it's the sexiest thing he's ever witnessed in his seventeen years of existence. 

Gerard slowly opens the car door, and that's when Frank stops watching, and turns away. He shouldn't be watching this, this is so wrong, this man is an innocent guy just doing his job, and now he's going to get killed just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

But yet, it'd help him further figure out and analyze what vampires are, and the strength they have, and all the damage they can cause.

Heart vs. mind, which shall triumph? 

Eventually, it's his mind and curiosity that forced him to turn back, and he gasps at the blood and gore splattered all over the windows of the vehicle. 

He can barely see what's actually going on inside the car, but he honestly doesn't want to know. Based on movies, and folklore, isn't feeding for them just a bite to the neck, and that be that? Surely it can't be that messy, can't it? 

Unless Gerard does more than just that.

And maybe, Frank realizes rather quickly, Gerard is right about himself being a monster. 

And with that, Frank makes a rather odd realization about himself as well.

Even though every one of his deepest rooted morals are against what's going on here, what Gerard is about, who he is, Frank finds himself not giving a single fuck at all.

And maybe that should scare him, but it really fucking doesn't.

Once Gerard finally emerges from the bloody car, he himself is engulfed in the scarlet gooey stuff. He reminds Frank of that scene in Carrie where she gets pig blood dumped on her, and for a single moment of tranquility, she just stands there and tries to comprehend what has just been done to her. 

Gerard stares up at Frank, his eyes that same fiery red they were back in the forest where they first met. 

Gerard is terrified as to what Frank now thinks, but he's also hoping that Frank won't put him on some god damn pedestal anymore. Maybe their very brief friendship will cease to be, but it'd be for the better in the end.

But instead, Frank just waves goodbye, and Gerard doesn't quite know what to do. 

It takes him a moment before he awkwardly waves back, and begins to sprint back home.

x x x x x

Otep is increasingly anxious.

Not just about this upcoming conversation with Mikey, and how she'll basically be telling them that she's going to let them be slaughtered by their undead brother, but also because of Frank.

The puking and sickness is getting so frequent that Otep is honestly considering that she may just have the flu now. 

Just as she shoves her Pre-Calculus textbook in her already crammed backpack, while listening to Comeback Kid's cover of Territorial Pissings, there's a tap on her shoulder. 

She sighs, and pauses her music to face Mikey.

Today, Mikey is looking rather aesthetically pleasing, wearing a black babydoll dress with white high knee socks. Black high heels accompany the ensemble, and their nails are a dark navy blue.

They're clutching an old crusty brown spell book close to their chest, and a small Harry Potter bookmark sticks out of it. 

"Hi,"

Mikey greets almost innocently. There's some kind of hope and excitement twinkling in their eyes, a glittering aura radiating off of them, and Otep really hates to be the one to bring an end to this lovely mood of their's.

Mikey takes a seat by Otep on the floor, flipping the pages to where the bookmark is placed. Otep takes a deep breath, knowing she just needs to get this done and over with,

"Mikey... There's something I need to tell you."

They ignore her comment, and point to the spell without looking up,

"That's the one I used... The one with a sketch of a dug up grave under the writing."

Otep sighs,

"Did you hear me? I gotta--"

"I know. Just read it first, and then say what you need to say."

"But it's about--"

"Read it."

Mikey bluntly commands.  
Deep inside of them, they know that Otep is probably going to chicken out of the plan. They don't know why she would do such a thing, since before she was so adamant on getting justice. But there's just something in the way she talked just moments ago, something to do with the words she said, the tone used, the eyes full of pity and guilt. It all points to her wanting out. Mikey wants to deny it, and they want to continue lying to themselves that this will all work out. But the more she talks, the more clear and crushing the truth becomes. This reasoning is why Mikey had to interrupt her, had to pretend that she wasn't even there. 

Otep, Mikey originally thought, would be the only person crazy enough and spiteful enough to want to confront and help murder Gerard. Not to mention that if the duo couldn't successfully kill Gerard physically (due to circumstance or due to cowardice), then they could use magic. Otep knows how to maneuver and manipulate the tricky concept of witchcraft to her advantage, unlike Mikey, who seems to just fuck it up.

But Mikey's perfect scenario is unraveling right in front of them, the main characters in this play of sorts messing up their lines, fumbling carelessly through the scenes, fucking up the entire storyline. Mikey can only watch in horror as all they've worked for comes apart in a few miniscule minutes.

Otep doesn't know how to get her words out without wasting her time reading this spell, so she finally just complies with Mikey's order, and skims it all over.

Luna taught Otep Latin when she first began learning about witchcraft. The process was long and rather tedious. Otep struggles with her English enough already, so how was she expected to master something foreign and completely new? 

With patience and tons of hours spent studying, Otep eventually became decent at it, enough to be able to translate and read from the spell books. Which is basically all you need to know how to do in relevance to magic.

When she comes across the human sacrifice portion of the spell, she feels a bit sick to her stomach.  
There seems to be no one innocent these days. Everyone has some dirt on their once perfect pristine pictures, hung up in crookedly placed wooden frames. And if there's no dirt, no blood, no corruption, no sick motives tied to a person, then they usually end up being the victims themselves. It's sad, it's a damn shame, because the good people of this world deserve so much more than an untimely demise and a knife to the back. But that's what they always get, whether its a literal knife in the back, or a metaphorical one. They're always getting taken advantage of, always lied to and manipulated like puppets, and Otep for one is tired of it. 

Knowing Mikey has done such a shitty thing, that they were once the manipulator of the concept of life and death for someone else, makes Otep's blood boil and her skin crawl, and she can barely get out her next spoken question,

"Who the fuck did you sacrifice?"

"Pete Wentz... I made him believe that we were going to do a suicide pact. I couldn't murder him, couldn't snatch and steal life from him. Some believe life is a precious thing, more valuable than anything else in the world... I made sure he didn't feel that way before I asked him about it. He wanted to die... So I helped him out, I said he wouldn't do it alone. And he wasn't technically alone when he finally did die... I was right there, talking to him, making sure his last moments weren't miserable. He died a peaceful death."

Mikey knows that the majority of their story is glamorized, an absolute bullshit lie, that Pete Wentz truly didn't ever want to die. All he had truly wanted to do was feel alive.  
Mikey did take that away, steal it, snatch it, swipe it, however you want to call it. It's as bad as murder in Mikey's head.  
They didn't even mention the part where Pete came back, and how he basically made Mikey finally see all the damage they've caused. They didn't care to admit that without undead Pete's advice, Mikey would still be believing in the illusion that Gerard is a good person, and that he can fix all of their various problems.

"So how did he do it? Pills?"

"Cutting."

"That's not peaceful at all. Bleeding to death is an agonizingly slow way to die... You just sat there and let him bleed? God, that's so fucked up. I'm assuming you never did tell Pete what the true purpose of this whole thing was..."

"No..."

"Michael Way... You fucking piece of shit--"

Mikey flinches at the sound of their full name, and calmly states,

"Mikey, please..."

The full name reminds them of their mama, and the way she would always wake them up in the morning. It reminded Mikey of the false identity pinned onto them, the one claiming that they were a good Christian boy, one who was healthy inside and out. No flaws, a perfect poster child, and it feels like a stab anytime it's mentioned. 

Usually words are so simple, and so incredibly stupid, that they never get to Mikey. But this title, this name, brings back memories that they try their best to block out daily. 

It hurts more than any 'normal' insult ever would.

"Whatever! I can't believe you used Pete like that! You convinced him that life isn't worth living, that there's no hope left in this world. That's even worse than murder, because not only did you take away that boy's life, you took away his hope, his happiness, his chance for recovery, because I'm assuming that he had issues with depression and suicidal thoughts, and you manipulated that to your advantage. I can't even fathom... Fuck, I wasn't going to help you anyway. Now I don't even want to talk to you... I don't want to see you... I don't want to hear you... Hell, in general, I just don't want a scumbag like you to even exist! Fuck off, just fuck off, and stay the fuck away from me."

Mikey and Otep stand up in unison. Even though Mikey is taller, Otep is more intimidating by a long shot.

Mikey's voice begins to crack embarrassingly, their voice wavering,

"Otep, listen, I know what I did was fucked up, that's why I'm trying to fix it! You gotta help me---."

"You started the problem, you fucking fix it. I'm not cleaning up someone else's mess, especially for some douche like you."

Otep begins to storm off, and Mikey calls after her,

"Wait!!! Please, come back!!"

Mikey's chance to redeem themselves is slipping through their fingers, and desperation leads them to follow Otep. They can't let her go, they can't let her take away the only solution to all of the chaos occurring in this hellhole of a town. All of the chaos that stems directly from them, and them only.

Otep almost screams when Mikey grabs hold of her arm and spins her around. She pushes them away, and yells in a shrill voice,

"Don't fucking touch me, you piece of shit!"

At this point, the two of them are causing a massive scene. The open space seems to get smaller as kids swarm in. Kids of all different heights and sizes and races, they surround the two, trapping them in a wrestling ring. Some are chanting 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'. Some have their phones out, beginning to videotape the confrontation. Then there are others who just glance at the two with pity. 

Mikey sighs, trying to stop the tears from rolling down their face,

"Well this is just fucking great. Spectacular. I didn't want any of this to happen, I just wanted you to help me... You're the only one who can.."

"Fuck that! Not only did you touch me, but you--"

She takes notice of the other people around, and stops herself from blurting out a truth that would launch the school into chaos,

"--... Nevermind... Look, surely I'm not the only solution to all of your fucking issues."

"There's no way I'll take him down physically by myself. Even if you did help, that method still might not work out. With that, it only leaves one solution;--"

They whisper the next term, like its some important secret,

"--magic. I can't do that on my own either, there's no way, I'll fuck something up again. At least give me some advice, or tips, or a spell, or something! Yeah, a specific spell would be pretty rad... Please... All of the killing would go away... Don't you want him gone? Don't you want all of this violence to stop?"

Otep snatches the spell book from Mikey's hands, and smacks it hard against Mikey's head, knocking them to the floor. She chucks it back at them, the book landing on their chest, and stomps on it,

"Of course I do, we all do. But fucking use your spell book and find a solution yourself Michael. You successfully did the spell right before, you just didn't read the warning about it's effects beforehand. Which is fucking stupid, but I'm not even surprised at this point, because it's you, and that doesn't need much explaining otherwise. Anyway, you're may be an idiot in the magic category, but you're smart in that you know exactly how to use people. I'm not some chess piece to be moved. I'm a human being, and I refuse to help you. You need to get your own shit together, and stop relying on others to do your dirty work. Oh, and don't touch me, ever again, or I swear to god, I'll do something much worse than this to you."

And once the hot anger begins to cool, Otep starts to understand what she's just said. 

The students are gossiping amongst themselves, their hisses and whispers humming like cicadas. Their eyes burn through her, the colors of them all along the visible spectrum, some blank and doll like, while others are full of hate and malice. 

She glances at Mikey on the floor, eyeliner-tinted tear streaks coming down their cheeks. Their glasses are knocked off their face, lying on the floor next to them. They're breathing hard, chest heaving, struggling not to make a single sobbing noise.

No one knows the context behind the argument, or what was being talked about. But more than likely, people would assume she's bullying Mikey based on the fact that they wear dresses and feminine things.  
Bullying is common at the school, and usually Otep is on the victim's side, standing up to their attacker. Hell, she might've helped Mikey out before and might just not remember it. But now she's the one starting the violence and rude insults, she's the one enacting physical harm to someone else. She's the cause of this whole scene, and she hates it.

To make everything even worse, the person that's been making her sick lately emerges out of the crowd. They all seem to almost part for him, as if he's some kind of celebrity of some sort. 

Frank walks over to Mikey, and asks them if they're okay. He hands them their glasses. As Mikey awkwardly places them on, they sniffle and reply to Frank's question with a blunt 'no'. Frank helps them up to their feet.

Mikey wraps and arm around Frank, and just before the two make their way to the nurse, Frank shakes his head in disgust and disbelief, and mumbles in Otep's general direction,

"Fucking bitch."

The next movement is barely noticeable, but Otep sure as hell sees it.  
Frank takes the stone out of his pocket, and throws it to the ground. In the moment after he walks away, and the students return to their regular schedules and routines, the stone is kicked and stepped on multiple times. It's once pearly white exterior becomes contaminated with grime.

Otep can't move, she can't really function at the moment to be honest, guilt flooding her senses and making her brain not be able to think comprehensible thoughts.

Did she seriously just bash Mikey's head with a book, and stomp on their stomach? Did she really just purposely call them their full name, knowing how much it'd sting? Did she just permanently break Frank and her's long lasting bond, the one that originally would've fixed itself in time? 

Mikey deserved that though, she keeps telling herself, they deserved every harsh word spat at them. Frank is a piece of shit anyway, he has a crush on the person who assaulted your best friend.

But yet, a part of Otep knows that these statements aren't true. She knows that she went overboard, that this was completely uncalled for. She could've just simply said she wasn't going to help, and moved on with her life. Why was she even shocked when she found out about the human sacrifice part of the spell? Most black magic spells have you gather and do fucked up things like that. 

Besides, Mikey did understand that what they did was terrible. They also ultimately did somewhat accept that they'd have to do the murder themself. They just wanted help on what spell to use. She should've told them one, it's not like she could get hurt by giving them simple advice.

Gerard needs to die, and if he ends up not dying because of Otep not leading Mikey in the right direction, she's going to forever regret it.

She sighs, finally managing to get her body to move, and pushing through the remaining people standing around. She then heads to class, eyes glued to the floor, her feet being dragged with every step she takes.

x x x x x


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank meets Mikey for the first time. Gerard becomes frustrated over the fact that he can't protect Mikey from harm despite his numerous abilities. Luna reveals some of her past, and does this to try to get Otep to understand how calling Mikey 'Michael' purposefully crossed the line.

It takes a moment for Frank to truly comprehend all that just happened, all he just did, and why exactly this person had their arm around him to stand.

It all went by so fast, a blink of an eye, and as it all really sinks in, he tries to recall what exactly Otep and this dude were arguing about. What made him run over here, because usually, he ignores the fights in the hallways. 

He finds them more bothersome than interesting, since they make the hallways close to impossible to navigate through. It's almost impossible to get to class on time, and Frank just happened to get the teachers that are huge sticklers about that rule in particular. Some are chill about practically every other school policy, but something about a kid just strolling in whenever they feel like it, really irks them all for some reason.

"If you could just help me over to the nurses office, that'd be pretty cool."

"Okay. It's in the senior hallway, right?"

"Yeah."

As the two make their way over to the office, Frank analyzes the kid next to him. 

They look... Broken. Glasses cracked, bruises decorating their skin, scars striping up their arms. Frank knows these aren't all from the confrontation that just occurred, these are from past altercations.  
Altercations not even involving other people, altercations that include them, and them only. A war occurring inside their head, a struggle to be free of the bombs exploding, the screaming voices, the gunshots and bullets piercing through them. This pain is building up, and will continue to do such, until they directly decide to try to find a solution that both opposing armies will agree to, and not to just run away from it all. 

"I know, they're ugly. You don't have to stare, you can just say it out loud, I don't care."

Frank didn't even realize that he was staring until the kid commented. 

"Sorry... I just. I know how that shit goes. I mean... Not with cutting, but with depression--"

"You have no idea what I'm going through at the moment, no clue. Even if you did know, there's no way in hell that you would actually understand. There's a difference between knowing things, and then honestly comprehending them. Knowing just barely scratches the surface, but understanding takes a lot more than that, it takes you literally going through my exact predicament for you to truly get why I'm like this. So just shut up, stop trying to relate, because you never will, and your attempts are just pathetic."

Frank is stunned into silence. How can he respond to that? He can't insist that this dude is wrong, because he doesn't know what they're going through. What can he say to fill up the silence? Should he apologize again? Should he ask what them and Otep were arguing about? Would they even want to talk about it with him? 

It's worth a shot, because something mentioned in that argument made Frank come over, and he has already forgotten what it was. He needs to know, and he can't talk to Otep, he isn't really friends with her anymore. 

"What were you and Otep arguing about?" 

The response he receives is one he doesn't expect at all. Or rather, it's one that isn't a 'shut the fuck up' or a snippy comeback. 

The kid glances at Frank with the utmost pity and sadness in their dark eyes, their lips twisted in a grimace, 

"Nothing that you should be concerned about."

They've reached the office now. The door is open, and the lights are blindingly bright. The strong stench of hand sanitizer is present, and a couple of ill looking students are slumped over in chairs lined up against the walls. 

"Thanks for helping me,"

The kid takes their arm off of Frank, and begins to walk away. 

"Wait!"

They snap their head around, and ask in an irritated tone, 

"What?"

"What's your name?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because I'm curious, and you seem cool."

The kid stands still, their eyes glancing at the floor, contemplating whether they should give this information out or not.  
Which absolutely baffles Frank, because what's the harm in giving out a name? He didn't even ask for their full name. Just something to call them, something to remember, a title to connect to a face. 

"It's Mikey," 

They finally mumble. Before Frank can get the chance to say anything else, they go over to the nurse's desk, and begin talking to her about their injuries. 

Frank walks off, and whispers the name under his breath, 

"Mikey... Mikey... Mikey... Mikey... Mikey!"

It hits him suddenly, the memory of him and Gerard's conversation yesterday, and a mentioning of someone with that name.

~*~*~

After a rather comfortable silence, and a few moments spent watching the sunset, Frank is surprised to find that for once, Gerard is the one interrupting the tranquil quiet,

"You want to know something Frank?"

"What?"

"This sunset, it reminds me of my sibling Mikey. When I was alive, we would always check the local news and look at when the sunset was estimated to come. We would prepare our whole schedule for the day based around sunsets, always making sure we had free time right when they began. It was tedious for me, but fun for Mikey. It gave them a sense of purpose. Whenever they had a bad day, they could always look forward to the sun setting. There's something about it they loved, whether it was the way the colors seamlessly blended into one another, or the serene vibes it always gave off, I'll never know. But nowadays, they hate them. Every sunset, the curtains in the house are closed, and they make sure of it. If one is open, they freak the fuck out. The first night that happened, that's when I finally realized something..."

"And that being?"

"I realized how much things have changed. How much time has passed by. All the damage I caused to Mikey. How much I fucked up."

~*~*~

Mikey is Gerard's sibling. 

Frank bites his lip, and begins thinking about the argument again. He knows he heard about magic. Violence too. And an ending. But how do those connect together, what about that triggered Frank to react in the way he did? What made him run over there in the first place? 

Don't you want the violence to end? 

That quote was Mikey's, and Otep was screaming at them about them needing to figure things out for themselves this time. This time... Has Mikey worked with magic previously? On what? 

Gerard never did tell Frank how exactly he came to be like this, how he became a vampire and rose from the dead and all of that shit... 

He has to ask Gerard about that later.

Also, with the connection to Gerard, Mikey could very well be talking about ending Gerard's string of violence...  
Because who else could Mikey be talking about? It's not like there has been any other extremely violent people on the streets lately. It's only been Gerard, and honestly, it's probably because at some point, he killed whatever violent perpetrators had been lurking. Plus, Mikey would probably be the only one who could actually pull it off. Gerard would never suspect them to do such a thing, and it'd catch him off guard. Mikey could easily succeed in their murderous endeavors.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!! 

Frank thinks, every fiber of his body screaming with panic. What if that was true? What if Mikey is planning to murder their own brother?

It could be true, it could very easily be true, or it could be his inner conspiracy theorist talking. 

One thing is for certain though, he needs to talk to Gerard more about how he was brought back, and learn more about Mikey's personality and character.

If everything connects together, then he could save Gerard. He could save Gerard from his untimely fate. 

But then from that thought, a question blooms, and it starts growing wildly out of control. Now it's not just a question, it's a series of bombarding and conflicting thoughts. 

Is Gerard even worth saving?

Even after all of the terrible things he's done? Even after ripping people apart at their very seams, mentally and physically? After painting the town red with all of the blood he's caused people to loose, all of the literal guts he's caused people to spill? He did say he's a predator, and that when he's unhinged, people are nothing but prey to him. He's aware of his actions and mistakes, but yet he continuously keeps doing them, over and over again. Just like an alcoholic, he'll say he won't indulge in his poison tonight, that he'll lay off of it for awhile, that things will get better. For a blissful moment, things actually do seem to take a turn for the best, and every one's hopes are brought up high, only for them to come crashing back down in about a week's time. 

That in itself should be enough for Frank to just let Mikey kill Gerard. 

Without Gerard dying, the murders will never end. It'd be even worse if Gerard accidentally turned someone.....  
This town will be plucked clean of people, and Frank would be one of the only ones left. There's no way at this rate that Gerard will restrain himself and protect him, he'd eat Frank alive. Frank would squeal and squirm, but no one would be there to protect him, and no one would generally even be left. They'd all be already gone, his aunt, his uncle, Otep, Ray, hell maybe Gerard would really fuck up and loose control around Mikey....

Every last one of them, dead.

His toxic friendship with Gerard will be the death of Frank. He might as well begin planning his funeral, inviting all of his extended family, and his one or two Internet friends that he hasn't even talked to since like two years ago. It'll be a bash, a fucking party, because Frank believes his death should be celebrated amongst everyone. All he ever does is cause issues anyway, and letting Gerard live would certainly be one of them. In his opinion, he would definitely deserve his ironic demise, the creature he cared for so much ending up killing him.

But yet, something inside of Frank is shrieking at him that letting Gerard die would be a horrible mistake. The reasoning for it doesn't matter much, whether that be his inner curiosity about Gerard's vampirism, or just some stupid feelings refusing to acknowledge how terrible Gerard truly is. It all ultimately comes down to some part of Frank wanting to be selfish. 

That part, however big or small it may be, wants Frank to stop Mikey in their tracks. Only so Frank could have some more time with Gerard, just so they can share a couple more seemingly infinite moments, a few more lovely conversations, and some more blind seconds where he could lie to himself and believe that this would all work out in the end. 

But Frank knows that satisfying his own desires is not worth hundreds of thousands of corpses, not even the ones of the most evil men in the world. Nothing that grand of scale is worth the childish fantasy Frank loves to live in with Gerard.

Frank bites his lip as he walks up the stairs to his next class. He can feel a headache coming on, the pain exploding in certain areas of his brain. It's damning, and it's honestly making Frank feel a bit dizzy. He needs to sit down, and fast, and he practically collapses into his seat once he enters the classroom. He puts his head down, and groans loudly.

God damn,

He thinks,

Can't things ever be simple?

x x x x x x

"Who the fuck did this to you Mikey?"

Gerard asks, fury pulsing through him as he stares at Mikey and his various injuries.

Gerard's day was perfectly mediocre before this moment, before Mikey came home from school. He had actually done something mildly productive, that being taking a shower and picking up the house a bit. He had also found a new band thanks to searching and sifting through stuff on Spotify, that band being Margot and The Nuclear So and So's. He maybe also jacked off a couple times thinking of a particular pretty boy that is slowly worming his way into Gerard's heart.  
It was nice to not have everything be so intense, and to just pretend that he was normal, as if he was taking a day off of work or staying home 'sick' from school. 

But that temporary satisfaction with life has disappeared completely with Mikey, and the large purple bruise on their forehead.

"It's no one Gerard... I deserved it anyway, don't worry about it."

"I can't not worry about it! Come on, please talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing! Just leave me alone, okay?"

With that last sniffled word, Mikey runs into their room, slamming the door behind them. 

Gerard chases after them, but sighs once he realizes that the door is locked.  
He can hear Mikey crying, and it makes Gerard's heart ache.  
It feels like a punch in the gut that even with these abilities of his, he still can't protect Mikey from the cruel people of the world. All these abilities can do is destroy and fuck everything up, they can't be used for the good. He's not an anti-hero, he's not like The Punisher or Deadpool, Gerard is simply a villain. A villain who should be defeated, and thrown into jail. Or maybe not jail, maybe he should just be killed, maybe one of those anti-heroes mentioned should just murder him in cold blood, god knows he deserves it.

His eyes begin to hurt, and it takes a minute for him to realize that he too is crying. But it's silent, he can't have Mikey overhear him cracking and breaking down.  
It's like when he was alive all over again, putting up a strong facade and making Mikey think that all is well. That nothing could destroy Gerard Way, that he was immortal and invincible. His only true enemy was, unbeknownst to Mikey and literally everyone, himself. 

But now that he's actually immortal and almost invincible, it's not all that it's cut out to be. It's dreadful, these powers aren't a blessing, but a curse. He can't imagine living past everyone and everything, watching all that he loves and knows die.  
He can't imagine the grand scheme of it all, adapting with the centuries and the technologies, maybe caring for a couple along the way, and then watching them die too. It'll continue to be this way, and eventually Gerard will numb himself to the point where he doesn't care much for anyone or anything anymore. But the loneliness, if not the actual end of the world, will be the thing that finally kills him. That finally makes him end it all for himself.

It's all so terrifying to Gerard, the boy who ended things when they got slightly bad, the boy who hates the future and old age and anything that is unknown. Now he'll be forced to deal with that unknown forever, until someone kills him with a stab to the heart, or he ends it himself again.

Honestly, in this moment, Gerard would rather be killed sooner than later. If someone killed him today, or tomorrow, or in a week from now, he would be perfectly okay with that. He'd find that awesome. He'd actually probably celebrate, and depending on how far he knew about it beforehand, maybe take Frank out and have a good time. But of course, he wouldn't tell Frank what this extravaganza is really for. 

Gerard sits against Mikey's bedroom door, and stares at the ceiling. He wipes the scarlet tears off of his cheeks, and asks, voice hoarse,

"What do you want me to make for dinner?"

He's surprised when Mikey calls back,

"Just some soup. Chicken noodle soup."

"Campbell's or homemade??"

"Campbell's. You're a fucking terrible cook, I don't trust you actually making things that don't use the microwave."

"Ouch. Wow, okay. Love you too Mikes,"

Gerard chuckles, and gets back up again. He moves over to the kitchen, and takes a can of 'Chicken and Stars' out of the cupboard. As he opens it, he can hear the 'click' of Mikey's door being unlocked.

Everything breaks, even the toughest materials can be cracked. But it's up to you to decide whether or not you pick up the pieces and try to fix yourself, or whether you just let yourself wallow in your pit of misery and broken parts.  
Whether the solution to the broken thing is temporary or permanent, it's always important to get up and try, and move forward. 

That's what Gerard told himself as he carried Mikey's bowl and a homemade burnt chocolate chip cookie over to their room. Just as he is about to knock, Mikey opens the door, and walks straight into Gerard. 

The soup spills all over the floor, and does the cookie. It's soaking up broth, crumbs everywhere. It takes a moment for the two siblings to even take in what just occurred. But once they do, they laugh. They laugh until their sides hurt, because for some reason, this seems like the funniest god damn thing in the world at the moment. Gerard, covered in the noodles and carrots, the broth making it look like he just pissed his pants. Mikey, just being their naturally clumsy self.

The Way household is, for once, tranquil, and it's a nice change for the two siblings. But they both know it's just a tranquility based on lies.  
No one cares for once though.  
No one gives a damn.

x x x x x x

Luna and Otep got coffee at the local coffee store. They're sitting outside on an old rickety bench, one that seems to creak every time someone merely flinches.  
Otep's currently talking about all that happened with Mikey. 

But there's a certain point in the story where Luna's face became a lot less curious, and lot more pissed. Her eyes are currently squinted, her lips in a tight line. 

Otep doesn't know why Luna is looking at her like this, and it makes her a bit uneasy. She quickly wraps it all up, and takes a sip of her drink.

"So what you're telling me is," 

Luna snaps, taking Otep off guard,

"You purposely called them Michael, when they preferred Mikey? And you hit them in the head with a fucking spell book?!"

"Yeah..."

Luna shakes her head in disapproval,

"I get you pushing them away, because yeah, it really wasn't cool that they touched you and stuff. But what you did went too far. You don't... You don't fucking call someone by the name they hate just because you're mad. You always respect people's names, their pronouns, all of that shit, regardless of what's going on. That's really fucking low of you O., really low. I didn't think you were the type to pull that shit."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to that Mikey kid. They need it."

"But they... They deserved--"

"They deserved some common sense thrown at them, sure. But they did not fucking deserve being called their birth name. I don't think you understand how much that shit hurts."

"And you do?"

The two girls glare at each other for a moment, and Otep is scared as to what Luna is going to say next. She knows she really pissed Luna off, and she seriously can't afford to lose any more friends right now.

"Yes. I do. You don't, you have no idea what us non-cis people go through. This Mikey kid could very well be a boy that just likes wearing feminine things, but from what you've told me, it seems like it's way deeper than that, that they're not a boy. I don't know what exactly they are though, but it's definitely not that." 

"You're not cis?"

"No Otep, I'm... I'm transgender. I don't talk about my past much, because it's a doozy. But I think you need to hear it in order for you to understand what it's all like."

"I was born Lucas. I was into football, I was the star quarterback on the high school team. I was a player, I dated many people, sometimes I'd date multiple at once. But I'd treat the girls horribly; I would insult them, push the nerdier ones around, sometimes even beat them up. I basically hated women. I didn't know why I did, but I did. It all changed when I watched this movie... Called Burlesque. I watched the way the women danced on there, and I realized something; I was jealous of them. I was fucking jealous of how graceful they were, how beautiful they were. I wanted to be like that; I didn't want to be this big bulky jock like guy.  
It seemed like an impulsive thought, but it haunted me for awhile. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be... Not who I was." 

"I would look at all the girls I hurt when I passed them in the halls; the ones I played, the ones I beat up. They'd look at me with sad and fearful eyes, and something in me changed. I didn't want anyone to look up at me like that. I didn't want to be this big fearful intimidating guy anymore... I wanted to be kind."

"I changed my attitude, and I got my grades up. I was starting to make reparations with the people I hurt. I started... Changing for the better. My ego went down... I found myself beginning to feel at peace with who I was. But something still irked me, and that was my body. It still didn't feel right. It felt awkward." 

"I began to see women in a whole different light. I saw them as these beautiful works of God, and I... I started to wish that I was one of them too. I full heartedly wanted to be pretty and beautiful, but something in me screamed that guys can't be pretty, they can be 'handsome' or 'hot' or 'sexy', but certainly not that. I hated that. I hated it so much."

"I began to find myself stealing little bits of my moms wardrobe, trying them on for size. Keep in mind that she's tiny and petite, and I was tall and extremely huge. I would always return them when I was done, and I was able to hide my little secret. Until I ripped one of her prized dresses."

"She wasn't angry, she was only curious. She talked me through it all, my fascination of feminine clothing, my want to be in a different body. She told me that no matter what I wore, or what gender I was, or anything like that, she would still love me and support me."

"Now my father was different. He was outraged. He thought I was an abomination, a disgrace to the family. My mom and him argued often about it, leading up to their divorce around two years later."

"When the divorce happened, I was nineteen. I still lived with my parents, because college already was too expensive, and there was no way I'd be able to afford living on my own. I had a job at McDonalds, it payed the bare minimum, which isn't enough to live at all. But anyway, by that time, I was openly wearing dresses and makeup, and I went by what you now know me as; Luna. I had come to accept that I was transgender, that inside I felt like a woman, and not a man at all."

"But it was stressful whenever the teachers called out for attendance. They would always say 'Lucas', never Luna, no matter how many times I corrected them."

"But I'll never forget, there was a boy in my stats class named Nicholas. He was quiet, kept to himself. The one thing he ever said in class, was to the teacher on the first day of the semester. He said that he preferred to be called Nick. The teacher always remembered to call him that though. Always."

"It hurt, it felt like a punch in the gut. Every time I was misgendered, every time someone called me 'Lucas', a little more of me died. Why couldn't anyone understand that I was Luna? Why was that so fucking hard for people to grasp?"

"There's more to this story, but we've reached to where my point can be made; Otep, you may think that it's not a big deal, but that's because you've never experienced what this shit is like. You don't know how hard it is to roam the world, knowing you're a girl, but the world continued to scream at you that you're a boy. It's hard enough with the silent stares and judgment, but when people purposely misgender you and call you the wrong name, it hurts impossibly even more."

"We all have different experiences with this. But we all can agree, that no matter what non-cis gender we identify as, it still hurts when we're not taken seriously. When we're misgendered. When we're ridiculed."

The air is thick with tension, and the silence is becoming more and more stiff and awkward as the seconds pass. 

"Well?"

Luna asks irritably,

"Did you learn anything from that, or was that totally fucking useless?"

"Yeah, yeah I did. Sorry, I'm just spacing out... I'll apologize to Mikey tomorrow at school..."

Luna bites her lip, 

"Do you see why what you did was wrong though?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do. Me calling them Michael was...not cool. It was completely rude and totally unnecessary..."

"Yeah, exactly,"

Luna glances at her new shiny golden watch. It's obvious that she wants to say more, but she can't, because for once in her life, time is of the essence. She has to be home at 8 pm, and its 7:45. She sighs, her stern and strong expression faltering just a bit, her eyes looking down at the pavement,

"Now, I've gotta get back to the house, before Lindsey freaks out... I'll see you later."

She turns away, and just before she begins to walk, she adds,

"And Otep? Don't fucking tell anyone about what I just told you. Ever. My past is gone, way behind, and I don't want it to catch up with me."

"Okay,"

Otep says. 

That watch is a bad sign, a horribly bad sign. She knows that Lindsey is probably trying to win Luna back over, spoiling her with these expensive gifts, and probably all the affection in the world. 

But it's all a lie, and Luna is probably starting to believe in it again. 

Lindsey is such a toxic person, and Otep only has these small insignificant moments to make Luna change her mind about this housing arrangement. But Otep always gets sidetracked, for Luna doesn't talk about herself often. She usually just sits and listens, and occasionally gives advice.  
So Otep tends to forget, and she only remembers Luna's predicament as she's walking off, and it's too late to say a word. Or when it's late at night, and Otep can't sleep, and her mind just spins and spins like a carousel.  
It's annoying background tune playing over and over, telling her that something is wrong with Lindsey, that Luna is going to get hurt again. 

Luna deserves so much better than this. She deserves someone like Otep herself, someone who won't control her and manipulate her to their will.

Speaking of manipulative people, Otep's definitely not looking forward to talking to Mikey again. She honestly wishes to stay as far away from them as possible. They scare her, maybe even a little more than Gerard himself does. 

Because you can easily tell that Gerard is not your ordinary guy. He's a monster, he kills and slashes without a second thought. It's like Michael Myers, he's on a war path, and he just won't stop. She wouldn't even be surprised if whenever he appears, ominous music plays.  
Basically, you know you're dead when he comes around.

Then there's Mikey. They seem perfectly average, they don't cover their face up with masks or wear outfits splattered with gore. They treat you nicely, their voice seeming to be constantly shaking with a tremor. Timid, unassuming, hell even a bit pretty, they're someone you'd never suspect would kill.  
But they convinced someone to commit suicide, and are planning to murder their brother, and that's horrifying. You can't fit Mikey into a stereotype, you can't plan and predict what they'll do next. They're just... Different. 

Those are the kinds of people that are the most dangerous, the ones you should avoid at all costs.  
Yet Otep is planning to chat with them after insulting them and pissing them off. 

She might as well dig herself a burial plot and sleep in a coffin, and let Mikey do the rest.

x x x x x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otep apologizes to Mikey. Gerard decides to help Frank decorate his treehouse. Jillian is desperate for ideas as to how to solve a case when the DNA points to someone who's deceased, so she turns to her friend Lindsey for advice.

"I'm sorry."

Otep can barely get the words out, they're practically croaked and they're completely drained of meaning. Her face is empty and blank, the only evidence of emotion is her lips stretched in a tight grimace.  
She knows what Luna said, it's been repeating over and over in her mind all day. It's the only thing that's motivated her to do this, to force herself to apologize to a person that she, deep down, still thinks deserved everything she said to them.  
It's also partially what made her thoroughly search the Internet till three am to get a spell for Mikey. Partially, because her own guilt over possibly being the cause of Gerard continuing to murder freely without punishment also heavily influenced her decision to help.

Mikey glances at her, and notices all of her lies immediately.  
Otep is probably the easiest person to read out of everyone; her emotions spill out on the pages of her open book, the words carved on her face. Her voice is like bad recording of an audio novel, her tone monotonous and her attempts at vocally expressing things pathetic in nature.

"You meant what you said, and it's obvious that you still do. You wouldn't take it back if you could. You're only doing this because either a. you feel obligated to, or b. you need something from me. I don't know what you need if it's the latter of the two, but still... Anyway, to be perfectly honest, that was probably the least genuine apology I've ever heard."

"It's not about what I need, it's what you need. You wanted a spell to kill Gerard, correct? Well I got you one."

Out from her purse comes a crinkled piece of paper, the cursive ink bleeding through. The writing is smeared, but legible, and Mikey takes it in slight awe. 

"Why?"

"You're scum Mikey, absolute fucking scum. But your brother is worse. So. The only people who could probably pull this off are you and Frank. Frank is fucking falling head over heels for Gerard, which I still don't understand, so it's up to you."

Mikey begins to skim over the paper, and is confused. There's no spells in Latin, no instructions, only a list. Similar to something you'd use for grocery shopping.

"It's not a spell per say, it's actually a potion. Buy and mix the ingredients, and put it in with the blood he drinks, and he should be dead in minutes."

"But he goes out and does the killing, he doesn't bring shit home or anything. How am I going to mix it with food if I'm not around when he eats?"

"Either follow him out, or get it inside him a different way. I don't know, you have to plan this out yourself."

"Alright.... I understand. Thank you."

Otep simply nods in response, and walks away.  
Mikey's 'thank you' hangs in the air, and they look back down at the list. These are all things they could easily get on Amazon.  
They could hack into their mom's old prime account, and use her old credit card. It'd all get here in a couple days, and during that waiting period, they could plan their scheme. 

It all feels so final now, with this paper in their hands, and these semi-logical plans circulating through their mind. So complete, so done, so brutally real.

They are going to kill their brother.

They will make absolutely sure that he never sees it coming, because if he does, he could easily stop Mikey. He could hurt them, break them, rip them apart like they're merely paper. Then, knowing Gerard, he would go through an even more painful personal self destruction. He would stake himself in the heart. Maybe he'd starve himself, or maybe he'd over indulge, eating not even because he's hungry, but in order to fill a quickly deepening void. 

Maybe he'd go back to his old habits, the habits Mikey hadn't knew about till months after Gerard's death, in which Mikey finally had the guts to walk back into Gerard's room. 

Everything had been the same, and Mikey found themself searching through the messy chaos for signs, signs that were obviously noticeable, signs that should've screamed at them that something was terribly wrong with Gerard. They flipped through sketchbooks, the pages being filled with comics. Comics of various storylines, and vibrant characters, and subtle messages hidden in the bold and bright lines. The colors and shading only further emphasized the mood and scene, the sadder toned ones done in blues and blacks, while the happier ones were reds and oranges. 

They went to the journals, but the lyrics etched in them were too complex for Mikey to comprehend at the time. The grand metaphors, the exaggerations, the phrasing, it baffled them to the point where they gave up on trying to decipher their meaning.

It wasn't till Mikey had reached the trash can that they saw Gerard's internal damage. The bottles of alcohol, the containers of medication (all full, Mikey shook them to make sure). The crumpled pieces of paper, the words much more vulnerable and blunt than the ones coded in lyrics. Scribbled in bold and black, Mikey could almost hear Gerard pressing his pencil hard against the paper, enough that it would tear.

It all explained the many instances in which Gerard stumbled around the house, all the times where he'd tell Mikey things that didn't make sense at the time; sober sad thoughts spilled through drunken lips. He'd laugh it off, and because of this, Mikey took all the comments as jokes somewhat, and chuckled along with him. But they weren't jokes, they were all the bitter truth, as bitter as the liquid that burned in Gerard's throat.

It also cleared up why Momma would yell at Gerard constantly; Mikey never understood why she was always angry at him. He never seemed to do anything wrong; he always came back from errands and outings on time, he always did his chores, his grades were not terrible (Bs and Cs), and he always tried to be polite and courteous towards elders and guests (until they said bigoted things; which, in Mikey's mind, was totally justifiable). Gerard wasn't perfect,  but Mikey originally thought he was damn near close, and as Mikey stared down into that dark abyss of trash, they realized that there was a lot more wrong with their brother than they ever thought was possible.

It's like that now, with Gerard and his violent tendencies. Mikey doesn't care anymore that Gerard 'needs' blood to live. Any person could say such a thing, and it doesn't erase what they've done at all. Needs and addictions are not excuses to do horrible things; excuses made for your own actions is simply denial, and Gerard is knee deep in that shit. Mikey doesn't think Gerard truly understands how horrible he is; he may think he is self aware, but if he was, then he'd try to at least stop and somewhat control himself. But he hasn't, he's not even trying to find a more civil solution to get the blood he needs.

So since Gerard isn't trying to find a solution, Mikey has to do this themself, and maybe they should feel bad, but they don't. They think this is the best thing to do, it's the only thing left.

So with that, Mikey folds the paper, and puts it in their backpack. They then walk to the cafeteria, thoughts of a mirror like recurrence unfolding.

This cafeteria being the same one they ran out of years ago, dashing hopelessly home to try to save their brother.  With Ray waving them over to their current spot at a circular gray table in the far left corner, Mikey gets shivers. This was the beginning of them desperately wanting to save Gerard, their obsession with it spiraling out of control, to the point where the current mess at hand is happening all because of it.

Now, this will be the end of that era, and instead of saving Gerard, Mikey will  be giving him the final shove off of the cliff.

Or maybe they are saving him again, saving him from the future misery Mikey knows he'll eventually feel. Habits are hard to break, they still notice Gerard sometimes looking out at the sunset, and glancing at them in anticipation. 'Come on' his eyes will plead, begging for a single moment where things could be the exact same as they once were.

But Mikey always shakes their head no, because things aren't the same, and they never will be.

Maybe if they realized that longer ago, they wouldn't have brought Gerard back. They wouldn't have fallen out of grace, they could possibly be healthy at the moment, or maybe not.

Another thing Mikey has realized is this; you can't change the past. You can focus on the present, and plan for a better future.

So for the moment, before they hypocritically think things that oppose this, and take them down a road they would rather not go on at the moment, Mikey turns their attention to Ray, and soaks in every bit of his story, on how his grandma recently took him in, and his parents are being shipped off to rehab.

x x x x x x

Gerard has a bin full of lights, paint, and glow-in-the-dark space themed stickers. 

Why, one may ask? Well you see, ever since Gerard went to Frank's treehouse, he's been bothered by the lack of decoration inside. It's so plain, there's a khaki colored bookshelf, a couple of bean bags, a radio, some photographs and sketches scattered all over the floor, and that's about it. 

Frank seems like more of an exciting person than his treehouse portrays, and Gerard wants to make his treehouse more like him, and not just a shell. Of course he'll ask permission, but he thinks it'll be pretty enjoyable for the two, and it'll give Gerard something productive to do to pass the time.

The only issue is that Gerard will have to knock on the front door, and he'll probably have to deal with Frank's parents or something like that, and he doesn't know how exactly to handle that. They would surely remember his name from his suicide, Gerard isn't the most common name, and Mikey had told him at one point that his name was everywhere after he died. Maybe he should lie? But then again, if Frank does say his first real name, whoever else is in the house will pound Gerard with questions as to why he lied, and about who he is. 

Gerard thinks they'll probably question him regardless, but they definitely will more if they catch him in a lie.

Nervousness causes his cheeks to flush as his shaky finger presses the doorbell. He then knocks on the door for good measure.

Answering the door is a small petite woman, with warm brown eyes, and a friendly smile,

"Well hello there, what can I do for you?"

"Umm... Is Frank home?"

Her grin becomes wider, her laugh lines and wrinkles becoming much more evident,

"You're a friend of Frank's? What's your name?"

"Well... My friends call me Gee. I don't particularly like my full name very much, it's old fashioned and sounds ugly to the ear, so you can just call me that as well."

It comes out as rambling, and Gerard wouldn't be surprised if this woman thought something was a little fishy about a thorough explanation over something stupid like his name.

But she just continues beaming,

"Alright Gee. Come in, come in! I'll make you some tea."

"No thank you Mrs. Iero, but I appreciate the offer though."

The woman flinches at the title, but quickly covers it up with persisting kindness,

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"Just curious,"

She says, making her way up the stairs to where Gerard assumes Frank is,

"What's with the bin?"

"I wanted to help Frank decorate the inside of the treehouse. I thought it'd be really great, and much better looking than that plain wood."

"What about the outside too? I've always thought that it was ugly as hell. I have no idea why Harold painted it camouflage, like really? I believe that Frank would nowadays prefer something much different than that. Around a decade or so ago, Frank idolized the man, and would follow him around everywhere. He copied him with not only his hobbies, but his clothes, his views on the world, and even the mere way he spoke. It was honestly adorable. Now, things have obviously changed since then..."

The volume of her voice slowly decreases as she moves further and further away from Gerard. He sighs, not being able to hear anymore of her story.

He can hear murmuring, and then a 'thump'. In a moment's time, he can see Frank sprinting down the stairs,

"Hey!"

He almost comes in for a hug, but then he quickly realizes that Gerard is holding stuff.

"What's all of this for, hmm?"

"Do you want to like...oh I don't know...decorate your treehouse?? With me? The inside... I thought it'd be pretty cool."

Frank giggles at Gerard's awkwardness, 

"Sure. I'm assuming I'm going to be the one bringing it up though, since you can barely climb for shit without falling."

"Language!"

The woman scolds, and Frank smiles,

"Sorry Auntie Mimi, you know I lack a language filter."

Mimi shakes her head, laughing,

"I know, I get it. I was the same way when I was young. Now go have fun with your friend here, I think he's getting a little impatient with all of our apparently tedious banter and conversation."

"Oh no, it's fine,"

Gerard insists, but Mimi points out the door,

"Nope, it's not. Make sure you're back in here before dinner, or at least before curfew. You had me worried sick yesterday when you stayed in your little house after dark... especially with the officer patrolling the neighborhood getting killed... it could've easily been you, so please, just be careful..."

An elephant has seemed to smash it's way into the room, and it adds tension to an already somewhat small and crammed area.

This causes Frank to immediately reply,

"Okay. Come on Gee, let's go!"

But Gerard can't help but feel horrible with the mentioning of his selfish deed. 

Not just what happened with the murder, but for basically keeping Frank all to himself, and making his aunt worry for him. He wishes he could help her, and tell her to trust him on the fact that the city's 'boogeyman' won't come for her nephew.

But even with that reassurance, if she knew that the boogeyman himself was with her nephew, almost everyday, she'd never trust Gerard with Frank. She'd never let them be friends, or speak, or even acknowledge one another's existence.

Even though nowadays, the only thing Gerard wants to do is the exact opposite of harm. He wants to protect Frank from the shitty people in the world. Not only that, but make sure that he'll never end up like this.

Like what? Like a killer. Like an alcoholic. Like a miserable floater without a purpose. Like a heartless asshole.

Like Gerard himself. 

x x x x x x 

Officer Jillian is not only angry, but depressed. She's depressed because she couldn't solve this stupid case in time.

Her stupidity and senselessness caused someone on the force to be killed. Not just someone, but her friend. A good friend, a man named Teddy, and his name really did fit him. He was a large cuddly character, one that was always there if you needed a hand, one that would greet you with compliments and 'good morning!'s. His inner positive sunshine just seemed to radiate off of him, affecting everyone he came into contact with.

He was a great person. He didn't deserve this at all.

Jillian knows that she isn't supposed to discuss her cases outside of the work place, but she just honestly doesn't know what to do anymore. Every piece of evidence analyzed, every eye witness report, every single thing that was slightly reminiscent of a lead, led to a dead end.

She needs advice from someone not in the police circle. Someone whom she knows gives expert advice, someone who's extremely intelligent, someone who would honestly just give her a fresh point to investigate and look at this all from.

She needed her best friend, Lindsey Ballato.

Jillian calls Lindsey as she stares into a sea of paperwork and evidence skimmed over a thousand times,

"Hello??"

"Jillian? Hey! What's up?"

"I need some advice on this case I'm currently working on. Like I'm stuck, and I'm desperate. Help?"

"Alright. What's going on?"

"You know that killer that's been terrorizing the city? The one the media has dibbed the 'Dracula' killer? Well you see, that's my case right now. Everything I've discovered leads to a dead end."

"What information have you gotten?"

"Well, Ray Toro, he was last with Freddy and Jason when they were alive. He suggested that a certain person, who I'm 100% certain is deceased, did it. Yet, when I ran the DNA evidence, it matched the person he said. But like I already mentioned, the guy is dead. Has been dead for exactly three years today, it's his death anniversary."

"Who's the dead guy?"

"Gerard Way. That kid that committed suicide."

"Does he have any siblings? They possibly could have DNA similar to his, and the lab might of fucked it all up somehow..."

"I don't know... That's a good point though. Thank you, I never thought about that before. I'll look into it."

"You're welcome. Anything to help. I gotta go though, my shift starts in ten."

"Okay, bye Lindsey."

"See ya."

With that, Jillian reopens her case files on her desk; the many murders committed, and the Gerard Way suicide, and searches them with a newfound goal;

To find out if Gerard has any siblings.

x x x x x x

"Wow Gerard... this looks... amazing."

Frank stares at Gerard's artwork now present on the walls.

A universe seems to begin in a cobwebbed corner, the black slowly making its way towards the other end of the wall. Planets, some part of the Milky Way, some just pretty figments of Gerard's imagination, are sprinkled across the landscape. He also tried illustrating the constellations, but Frank can only pick out the big dipper. 

"Obviously I won't be done tonight, this is going to take awhile. But I'm happy you like it so far. This is sort of a pain in the ass to be honest."

"I told you I could help you, like, five times."

"No, I have a specific image in mind for this wall, and no offense, but you'll probably fuck it up if you try to do anything..."

"I get it, I'm honestly the same way when it comes to just drawing normal stuff on paper."

Gerard just nods,

"If you want to help, you can start sticking the stickers on the walls without wet paint. Or you can put the string lights up. Or you don't have to do anything, I honestly couldn't care less."

Frank begins to put up the stickers that look like aliens and UFOs; Gerard's probably not going to paint something so cliche on his somewhat realistic masterpiece. It's like as if the Mona Lisa had a crudely drawn dick on her forehead. 

Next, he puts up the normal looking rocket ship stickers, and the moon.

He couldn't bring himself to put up the star stickers, even though those were the kind most in abundance. Maybe it's because there's such an overwhelming amount of stars in and out of the room already. Is there such a thing as too many stars?

There were the stars outside, the star shaped lights, and the stars painted on the walls.

There's also the stars entirely present in Gerard's eyes. Even though the telescope is small, Frank feels like he can see those stars the easiest. They're the brightest and the most luminous. They're the kind that Frank would make wishes on, the kind that Frank would get his hopes up for. Maybe that's a good thing, or something terrible, but Frank isn't letting himself see the down side of this. He's letting Gerard sweep him off of his feet, and he couldn't be happier.

Frank likes the thought that every person on Earth is somewhat made of stardust. But Gerard seems like he's purely that; just glittery stardust, from the tips of his dyed orange hair to the bottoms of his drawn on converse (that were probably, at one point, white). Maybe his tornado of stardust is what's causing Frank to be blown away by him, to be blown away by someone who the rest of the world would look at him and think that he's perfectly average and insignificant.

There's something beautiful in that, something amazing about finding beauty in things no one ever seems to truly appreciate.

"Frank?"

"Yes?"

Gerard is facing him now, and probably has been for the last few minutes,

"Did you hear anything I just said? Or were you too busy staring at my dick to think straight?"

Frank smirks, saying his perfectly prepared comeback,

"Well Gerard, obviously I can't think straight if I'm thinking about your dick."

x x x x x x


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard thinks about the day he killed himself, and also ends up revealing to Frank how he came back from the dead. Mikey orders the supplies required for their deadly potion.

Frank and Gerard are now in Frank's room, due to Auntie Mimi forcing them to come in for dinner a hour prior to this particular moment. 

It was weird for Gerard to eat normal food. He thought it couldn't do anything too bad to him; and thus far he was right. The only thing was that it all tasted so bland, and it felt like he was just consuming empty air. From observing the rest of the family, Mimi, Frank's Uncle-in-law Harold, and Frank, Gerard quickly understood that Mimi was an expert cook, and that this meal was apparently 'one of the best of all time' (at least, that's what Harold said after the first couple of bites). So with that, Gerard mimicked the others behaviors and pleased grins, and he knew that he'd probably genuinely agree with the rest of them if he had his old human diet.

Gerard had gotten particularly grilled by Harold about his life. So, Gerard didn't technically lie about anything; he told the man his aspirations, where he went to school, his age, and his various interests. He told about Mikey, and he told about Donna. He told everything like as if this was three years ago, as if nothing has changed at all since then, and as if Frank was just simply a new friend he met at school (and not someone he met at a crime scene of his own creation).

But change was glaring at him today in a particularly large way, for you see, it's the three year on-the-dot death anniversary. He pulled out a shotgun this exact fateful afternoon, and at 11:11 am, he shot himself. He purposely did it at this time, waiting till that exact moment the clock changed times.  
He wanted to do one last poetically symbolic thing before he died, and that just happened to fit the bill. Who knows how many nights Gerard stayed up till then, and hopelessly wished for things to get better. For those sixty seconds, he was able to persuade himself to believe that this would actually impact his future, and fix his fucked up existence.

The night he started planning his death, his little superstitious routine didn't work. It was the first time this had happened; even on the worst of days, this usually lifted him out of his funk a little bit. But that day, it didn't, it all seemed stupid and silly. He questioned why he even did it in the first place. This quickly escalated into why he was even trying anymore, and how all of his effort just seems to go to waste. Every time he tried to quit the bottle, he'd relapse within the next week. Whenever he tried to educate his mom about homosexuality and get her out of her ignorant state of mind, she'd just scream at him, her face turning as red as cherries. He tried calling his dad's old number constantly, it being memorized from youth, and even though the provider always told him that the number he's calling is disconnected, he held the hope that one day, his dad would actually pick the phone back up, and take Gerard far away from this dreaded place. He tried to be kind to everyone he came across, even the people who bullied him ruthlessly, but for his kindness, he'd come home with a black eye and a house full of apathy. 

All of these issues finally overshadowed Mikey, the one person in the world who seemed to appreciate and give a damn about Gerard. 

Gerard had concluded that night that it'd be better for everyone if he was gone. He set a date on his calendar, planned his method of doing it, and went to sleep. Some part of him thought that in the morning, he'd go back to that marked date, and scribble it out ferociously. He'd shake his head and think he was acting stupid and selfish, and the anxiety would rip out his insides, reminding him of how terrified he is of death. But the next day, instead of feeling scared, he felt at peace with the fact that he'd be leaving the world in a couple of weeks.

That was the beginning of the end for Gerard.  
He remembers the morning he died as clear as day; he remembers faking being sick, he remembers hugging Mikey and slipping that note into their pocket, he remembers finding the gun and walking back to his room. He remembers sitting there, watching the time, waiting for the right moment for him to pull the trigger.

That's all he had done before dying; he sat there, excited and anxious, eyes brimming with tears.

11:10, he felt his chapped lips turn into a grin. But it fell when he heard the front door open, and thumping footsteps heading right towards his room. Gerard glanced at the time again, 11:11 now, and the red numbers staring at him was the last thing he saw before the world suddenly collapsed around him. He was once fading, for a few moments he was dying, and with one last exhale, he was dead.

It's 11:11 now, at night instead, those same red alarm clock numbers glaring at him as he sits with Frank in his room. Three years ago, twelve hours before the current time, at this very moment, he perished out of existence for what he thought was going to be forever. But now he's here, actually conscious and existing, sharing these small moments with this lovely boy whom should really stay away from him, and vice versa.

"Hey dude, are you alright?"

The clutter and mess of Frank's room is almost soothing, it represents Gerard's current mindset to a tee. A storm is raging outside, the hail slamming on the roof, the lights occasionally flickering on and off. 

He finds himself admitting personal shit to Frank, again,

"Today is the day I died. Three years ago. 11:11 am."

With that admission, Gerard's chest seems to fall. He doesn't need to breathe, his heart hasn't been pumping at all since he was reanimated, but at the moment he feels like he's suffocating. His throat is clamping up, his whole body seeming to halt and completely stop functioning. Reality is so brutally real at the moment, everything is so vibrant and harsh, all the little details sticking out like giant spikes, stinging his eyes. 

"Oh."

Frank is at a loss for words. How should he respond to such a thing? If he says 'that sucks', it'll come out as careless. If he says 'I'm sorry', it'll come out as pitiful. Should he just switch the subject overall? No, of course not, that would come off as even more insensitive than the 'that sucks' comment.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"It's alright. Sometimes, the best response to things is silence."

Frank looks at Gerard, and his wistful expression. His red eyes stare, off to somewhere else, out of this place. Maybe it's reminiscing a pleasant memory, or maybe it's a flashback to a horrid one, who knows. But based on what Gerard said, Frank assumes it's the latter of the two.  
Frank wishes he could just know what Gerard is thinking, what Gerard is imagining. Maybe then he could find the perfect words to make Gerard feel better, a temporary remedy to this seemingly eternal sadness of his.

Frank grabs his hand, and Gerard's whole body stiffens in response. To Frank's surprise, after a moment, Gerard squeezes back excruciatingly tight. The pain is brutal, but Frank doesn't mind, as long as it helps a little bit.

Frank decides to slightly shift the subject to his advantage. He needs to know more about Mikey, and if they're capable of committing murder. Thus, he thinks a good starting point for learning more about them, is Gerard coming back. He'll ask simply about how it happened, and then later maybe delve into the whys behind it.

But it won't be a total topic change. Life, or in this case the resuscitation of it, and death are more alike than one may think; one is the beginning of the story, the other is the end. The writing flows from the first page to the last, describing an adventurous life unlike any other, no matter how ordinary the cover may seem.

This comeback from the dead is a miraculous sequel, and it's story will reveal a plot. A plot with Mikey Way somehow tangled up in it, whether they be the one who picked up the pen to write again, or if they're the one determined to put an end to the monstrosity they created, or if they're behind both roles, or neither at all.

So finally, Frank gets the courage to ask,

"Umm, if you don't mind me asking, how did you even come back in the first place?"

Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He's obviously visibly stressed, for a good reason in his mind; Revealing this is basically full heartedly trusting Frank. With this explanation, comes a flood of questions that could be a variety of topics. He'll have to answer each and every one in order for Frank to get the full picture. He's just been giving Frank little scraps and pieces of him that don't even fit together correctly, but with this, and with all of the questions that could follow, Frank could put Gerard together as a person easily. He'll see how much of a wreck Gerard is, and he might think Mikey is messed up for what they did. Gerard doesn't want another person hurting Mikey, and if Frank did such a thing, he might just end up killing the boy. Even though his morals would be in the right place for once, it still bugs Gerard thinking about him laying a finger on Mikey.  
Then again, Frank likes Gerard just fine, even though he's a murderer, so ya know, his reaction might not be too bad.

"Mikey used some kind of fucked up magic to bring me back, obviously not knowing I'd end up being like this... this shit ended up needing a human sacrifice... I don't know exactly how they pulled it off... all I remember is coming back, forcing my coffin open, and feeding on this corpse... he was just laying there by Mikey, he looked so at peace.... I remember putting him in the forest, and looking down, I saw there were fresh scars on his wrists... Mikey had them too, not nearly as deep though and...it was just terrible. It all happened so fast..."

Gerard didn't want to admit outloud that his sibling basically made someone commit suicide... it made him disgusted, it reminded him of every person who had influenced his decision to finally go through with his own suicide. Every bully he ever had, his mom, his dad, his friends... okay, so his friends didn't do anything to influence him extremely, it was mainly his own envy of how satisfied and well off they seemed to be...

It baffled him that Mikey could be that manipulative, but he had told himself over and over that Mikey was just desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Mikey isn't a bad person, they were just driven to the brink.

Or maybe they are a shitty person, and this is just another case of Gerard wanting to live in the past again.

Frank connects the vague details pretty quickly. It may not be much to go on, but it does tell Frank what he needs to know.

Mikey is obviously able to commit murder; they had heartlessly persuaded someone to kill themselves, and watched their victim bleed out till the bitter end. They could've stopped themself at any point, changed their mind, gotten help for the victim. But they had not.  
From what Frank witnessed a couple days back, they physically seem weak. Mentally though, they're strong. They're intelligent enough to concoct a twisted scheme of epic proportions. This type of thing, killing their brother, wouldn't be out of the ordinary for them.

Gerard takes his eyes off of the clock for the first time in awhile, and scans the room around him, desperate to find something to comment on. He needs to change the subject, and fast, before Frank prods some more.

His eyes focus on a piece of paper pinned on a bulletin board. The piece of paper is a drawing, and his own familiar features face him.

"You drew me..."

Frank blushes, smiling,

"Yeah, I did."

"It looks... Really pretty..."

"What did you expect? I mean, it is a portrait of you and all."

"Are you trying to be smooth?"

"Maybe...."

Frank's flirting with Gerard is his own personal distraction from the question that he still hasn't decided the answer for, which is whether or not Gerard should be saved. 

Now since he knows what Mikey can do, that they have the capacity to do the deed, he's the only thing standing in between Gerard and his incoming death.

Should Frank let death punish Gerard for cheating his game, or should Frank defend the lier and falsely claim it was all fair play? 

Should karma be able to kick Gerard's ass, or will Frank attempt to thwart its efforts?

Gerard is currently glancing at Frank like he's holding Gerard's world in his hands. The world is as fragile as an egg, and it can easily be smashed. 

He can easily crush it all, he could end Gerard's existence with a choice; a lack of spilling of a secret, a small phrase. But the telling of it could change the course of everything. 

Would Gerard even believe him? 

Frank doesn't know. But he better decide soon, because he hypothesizes that he doesn't have much time left.

"Frank?"

Gerard asks, interrupting his train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I think I should go home... See if it's Mikey is doing alright... Maybe eat something. But thanks for letting me hang out with you... and thanks for being a good friend."

"Hey, it's no problem man..."

Gerard turns towards the door, about to make his exit.

This is his last chance to say anything before tomorrow, Frank thinks. What if Gerard's dead by the next time they're supposed to see one another? 

"Wait!"  
Frank yelps.

"Shhh!! Jesus, do you want to wake the entire world up?!,"

Gerard sighs,

"Anyway, what is it?"

But something inside Frank just can't force the words out. He wants to end this day on a good note. Today was already hard enough for Gerard, it being his death anniversary and all, and telling him about Mikey's plot wouldn't help anything.

Maybe that reasoning is disguising the real one, the fact that maybe it is better for Gerard to die. But Frank would never admit that. He's in a deep denial, one rooted in lovey dovey feelings and morals that force him to feel like there's hope for everyone. Anyone has the potential to become a good person in Frank's mind, even people who've done disgusting crimes. 

Maybe that's plain stupid, but giving up on people is a rather shitty thing to do in Frank's opinion. He knows what it's like to be given up on, and it's the worst feeling he's ever experienced. 

"Just... Come here..."

Gerard cautiously walks back over to where Frank is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Frank then stands up, and crushes Gerard in a tight hug.

The warmth shoots through Gerard, running through his icy veins. He seems to just melt there, his brain barely working correctly, his limbs feeling weak. His eyes close, and he smells a hint of Frank's cologne. 

He could just stay here infinitely, but he's jolted out of his haze when he finds himself burying his head in Frank's neck. 

Frank's pulse is rushing like a raging river, and Gerard gets hungry rather quickly because of it. It takes every piece of strength in him to tear away from the long hug,

"What was that for?"

"It just felt right... Sorry."

"No, it's fine. That actually felt kinda nice... I guess I'll see you later."

"Okay, bye Gerard."

Frank watches Gerard as he leaves. Every step he takes is calculated carefully, in order to not make the floorboards groan under his weight. Yet it all appears graceful, almost like a dance routine.

Speaking of dance routines, Frank's brain seems to be dancing around his priorities, filling up with gushy thoughts about Gerard. These gushy thoughts being about how alive he makes Frank feel, how with every brush of skin, Frank's entire body screams. 

It's all so cliche, and Frank loves it, but he can't help but feel an impending sense of doom looming over this blossoming relationship of his.

x x x x x x

Mikey ordered all of the supplies just moments ago.  
It should all get here within the next couple of days. Closing the laptop, they skim the TV channels. There's nothing ever on this late, and even though most people don't stay up this long, there should really be some better late night programming. 

They finally settle on some 'South Park', which isn't Mikey's favorite thing to watch. Sometimes it's funny as hell, sometimes it does makes good points, but other times it's just downright offensive. 

Mikey has been doing everything to distract themself from thinking about today's date. It's been working, until now, as they watch Kenny die on the screen for probably the millionth time. 

They chuckle sadly as the infamous quotes are shrilly yelled,

'Oh my god, you killed Kenny!!!!'

'You bastards!!!!'

The quiet laughter turns into crying. Even in a show as stupid and funny as this, any mentioning of death today is going to make Mikey feel miserable. Maybe earlier today they felt semi confident about murdering Gerard. Hell, maybe even a few minutes ago they did, as they added each ingredient to their internet cart. But now, with exhaustion creeping up on them, their real emotions are finally starting to present themselves. 

Fear shoots through Mikey, the freezing sensation shooting through them like heroin. They feel on edge, stiffer than a board. What if this doesn't work out right? What if Gerard ends up killing them instead? What if they end up not being able to go through with it?

Loneliness hovers over their brain like low dark storm clouds, the pounding rain from them coming down Mikey's face in the form of tears. There will be no one left after Gerard dies. Ray may be here now, but he left before when Mikey was drowning in their own shit, who's to say he won't leave again?  
Mikey will be completely and utterly alone, and they don't know if they could actually handle that. They're needy, they depend on interaction in order to thrive. If there's no one to care about them, then there's no reason for them to even exist.  
That need for support and love is what caused their spiral in the first place. Mikey doesn't want to get that low ever again.

Finally, anger. They're furious at themself for being so incredibly stupid. They can't believe all the lives they savagely destroyed, every person that they dragged down into their hell. All of their selfish impulsive actions, every drop of blood spilled, everything they've thought and done up to this point. Their brain is burning, it's a fiery blazing inferno, and the shrieks of all of the victims echo. It's all your fault, they all yell, it's all your fucking fault. Mikey knows they're completely right. 

Mikey glances at the clock. 11:11 pm.

Mikey can't help but wish for things to just turn out okay, and wish for some kind of sign that they're doing the right thing here.

What is the deal with 11:11? Why must it be so significant? What's it's appeal? 

Is it the aesthetic? Is there a true interesting story behind the superstition's creation? Why does Mikey find themself doing this, why do people in general do it? 

But their questioning of this weird ritual is pushed aside when the doorbell suddenly rings.

x x x x x x


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank has a terrible dream. Mikey is interrogated by Jillian.

Everything feels as if it's in slow motion. Every second feels like an hour, every breath seems to take an extra amount of effort. The setting is a distorted one; it's a misshapen mess of chaos. The buildings not only tower over Frank, but they break through the sky, poking holes through it's tough material. Clouds of smoke engulf the sky, and dead corpses of birds lie motionless on the ground. The only colors he can see are black and red, blending and overlapping one another to make the scene have an almost blood like shade to it. He feels sick, because he knows how this dream will turn out.

He's been having this particular one a lot lately, almost every night. He always tries his hardest not to sleep in fear of having this exact nightmare.  
No matter how self aware he is of the dreamscape, no matter how hard he tries, he can never change the outcome. It's the only dream that he literally can never stop and wake up from, he must stay until the very end of it. Every agonizing detail must be experienced, and he sighs as he continues into his dream's record store.

Every CD and record he could ever dream of is stashed in there. They're sorted alphabetically and by genre, and Frank's feet are always dragged over to the 'B's of the rock genre, because that's where he was when Bob sneaked up on him last time. Speaking of that piece of shit, he's due over at Frank's spot any moment now. Frank can feel himself tense up, his fists clenched to his sides. Unlike in real life, where Bob didn't succeed in assaulting Frank, he does end up fulfilling his sick desires. In this dream as well, when Gerard shows up at the door, he doesn't sweep in to save him. He only watches, his red eyes wide, mouth slightly turned up in amusement. 

He always wakes up from this dream screaming. Auntie Mimi and Uncle Harold used to run over and make sure he was alright. But now they never do, they know they'll only get the same dead response; 'It was only a bad dream, don't worry about it.'

"Hey there honeybee, are you ready to sting me yet?"

"Bob, I will never in a million years willingly fuck you. Just get this over with so I can wake up and get out of here."

"Oh no no no. We're trying something new today. BDSM, you've heard of it?"

Frank freezes up. This is new, this has never happened before in his dream. Usually he gets shushed and force fucked immediately after he attempts to respond.  
Before, he at least knew what to expect. Now he's absolutely terrified, he has no bloody idea what tricks dream Bob has in store for him now.

Frank gulps,

"Yeah--"

But before another comprehensible word is stated, Frank is gagged with a black rag. Bob pulls some rope from his pocket, and ties Frank's hands behind his back. Frank can barely breathe, and with every second, his mind flips out, all of his thoughts whirling around in a tornado-like frenzy. Hot angry tears go down Frank's cheeks, and he struggles with trying to break free. But the knot is large and tight, and Bob smirks as he begins to wriggle off his own pants. Frank closes his eyes, which is what he does every time this part of the dream arises. He can't bare to look another second, he can't have anymore images burned into his mind from this. 

Just as Bob rips off Frank's tight skinny jeans, a large crash can be heard throughout the store. It's the windows, they're being smashed by something. Frank opens his eyes, and sees the thousands of once dead birds flying into the store. Their flesh is rotting, some don't have eyes, some are so decayed that you can see bone. The ones with feathers are black, and Frank hypothesizes that they might just be crows.

Their loud screeches and caws pierce Frank's eardrums, and he curls up in a ball in order to protect himself. Suddenly, the bird's shrieks mingle with a new scream; Bob's. He stumbles away from Frank, and Frank barely watches as the birds descend onto Bob. They peck mercilessly, painting little bleeding holes all over Bob's skin. A couple persist at his eyes, and this finally causes Bob to completely drop to the floor.

One bird lands next to Frank. It's beady eyes stare straight into Frank's soul, and for a moment, Frank is scared that the small creature will attack him. But instead, it just sits there, almost like a companion. The two of them then advert their gaze, watching as Bob is basically ripped to shreds. Some birds fly away with little bits of skin caught in between their beaks. Others have more than skin, little bits of intestine and organs hang off of them like chandeliers from ceilings. They sparkle in the store's dim light, and Frank can't help but smile at Bob's cruel torture.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the birds finally fly back out of the now basically decimated store. Bob is basically unrecognizable; his eyes are gone, almost all of his skin is gone, and his organs are a gooey mess, spilled and split up all over the floor. 

There's one bird left, and that's the one sitting by Frank. Suddenly, a figure appears. They open the door, and immediately, the crow flies, perching itself on it's master's shoulder. Frank meets the figure's gaze, and the blazing red eyes immediately give away the person's identity.

"Gerard?"

Gerard doesn't respond; he only moves closer and closer to Frank. His hair is greasy and black, like when they first met in the woods.

"Hey man,"

Frank awkwardly chuckles,

"What's with the crow?" 

Gerard whispers something incomprehensible to the creature, and then it drops dead onto the floor.

"Oh... alrighty then. I'm assuming you're the one who sent the birds? Thanks for that, you basically saved me."

Gerard is now in Frank's personal space, his breath reeking of an iron sent. His clothes have blood splatter and stains all over them, his skin caked with dirt and grime. Finally, he responds, his voice as smooth as velvet,

"I didn't do that to save your life, if that's what you're thinking. I just did that to save you to myself. Can't let a good meal go to waste, now can we?"

"What--?"

"Sugar, haven't you learned already that the only person who can save you is yourself?"

With that final hiss, Gerard sinks his fangs into Frank's neck, and the world spins around him like a top. He's plunged into darkness, the pain scorching through him. Everything is collapsing, and suddenly Frank is falling, falling until he finally hits rock bottom.

x x x x x x

Frank wakes up, and his whole body is scorching with burning heat. He feels gross and dirty, every inch of him reeking of stink and drenched in sweat. He feels like vomiting out everything inside him, every little bit of food and every tedious emotion. He wants to puke and puke until he is nothing but an empty shell. This is typical after nightmares involving Bob.  
Although there is a difference between this instance and the others, and that is the fact that Frank finds himself not screaming; he instead simply sobs, his throat feeling scratched out and raw.

He doesn't know what time it is exactly, all he knows is that it's dark outside and everyone is still sleeping. He's so exhausted, but he can't bring himself to fall back asleep. The image of Bob's gory body, the disgusting looking birds, Gerard biting him, it haunts him like a ghost. There's no way he's letting himself fall asleep again tonight, or tomorrow either, or maybe any time at all. He'll force his eyes to constantly be open, never blinking, always focusing on the world around him. Not because of him being in a paranoid state, one where he's delusional and concocts granduose theories about the world being out to get him, but because he doesn't trust himself. 

He wipes away a tear, and throws the blankets off of his body. He would take a shower, but it's much too early for that, and the hot water would make him feel even more ill. So instead, he walks over to his telescope, lazily reaching out the window. Stargazing tends to calm him down in times of extreme stress.  
His Auntie Mimi hates that he leaves his window open at night, and worries constantly over intruders being able to sneak in through there. Frank couldn't care less though; space and the constellations are more important to him than his own miniscule and meaningless life. He'll never take down his telescope, and he'll never shut his window, no matter how 'dangerous' it could be.

He kneels, looking through the small lense. Everything up there seems so peaceful from this point of view, but Frank knows space is anything but that. There's black holes sucking in planets and stars, sending them down into a limitless pit. Meteors and asteroids fly, crashing into each other, and smashing into planets. Stars explode, radiating large amounts of energy and color.  
It reminds him somewhat of himself. When the world looks at him through tiny glass lenses, all they see is a peaceful exterior, a perfectly crafted facade. But underneath is something much more destructive, something that wants Frank to self detonate and be free of everything already. It's getting harder and harder to refuse the something's tempting whispers. Frank can't help but aim the telescope towards the ground below, wondering how far the fall is. Could it kill him? Would that be the fastest way to go?

When Frank dies, he wants his corpse to just be let go in space. He wants the lack of gravity to rip him apart at the seams, and he wants to be one with the stars. He knows it'd be an expensive thing to do, but it would definitely make his measly existence worthwhile.

He told Gerard about that when the two were decorating the treehouse earlier. He had asked Gerard what his ideal way to be disposed of would be, and Gerard said he'd like to be cremated and made into one of his favorite records. When Frank asked what record exactly, Gerard said he couldn't decide. He then admitted that he would want his record to be played a lot, so maybe it wouldn't even be something he technically liked. It would possibly be something that Mikey liked, or something that Frank liked, depending on who the record was given to. 

Frank moves away from the scope, and stares outside. Moonlight filters through the window, illuminating the beads of sweat polka dotting his skin. The world is quiet, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. It's a vast change from a town that once was alive with noise. He knows it's most likely because of curfew, but Frank still can't help but find it eerie.

A bright light suddenly shoots across the sky, a white paint stroke in a backdrop full of darkness. It's a falling star, one that people like to wish on. It's like birthday candles in that sense. Both are burning and exploding with fiery heat, the only difference being that one fire can be blown out, while the other can not. Why do people wish on things that burn out so fast?

Why does Frank find himself wishing on that star, wishing that everything works out just fine, even though just like that beautiful bullet in the sky, he knows it's all destined to crash and die.

x x x x x x

Mikey opens the door to find a police woman standing outside. Her hair is a dark jade black, her skin sun kissed and golden. Her eyes are a stormy gray, cold and analyzing every little movement Mikey makes.  
Everything inside and outside of Mikey is shaking like a violent earthquake. They're overcome with shivers and nerves, their hands reaching for the rubber band on their wrist. They stretch it back, and let it snap, the pain letting Mikey focus on the officer's words.

"Hello. I'm Officer Jinxx. Are you Michael Way?"

Mikey's eyes widen. Why was she directed here? Was it Gerard's various murders, or was it their mothers disappearance? What if it's something completely different?

They gulp,

"Y-y-y-yes. You can come in."

Officer Jinxx follows Mikey back to the table, and the two sit down across from each other.

"So Michael, where's your mother? Shouldn't she be home by now?"

Mikey can see the determined expression present on the officer's face. Her bright red lips are turned up in a know-it-all smirk, and her eyes scan intensely. So intense, that Mikey feels like that she's ripping off their skin and peering into their insides. She can probably see it all, every grimy gross parasite-like deed causing their mental stability to rot, the gaping hole where their heart should be residing, the way their guts just want to spill out of their tiny fragile body like wine from a glass bottle. She can probably predict every stereotypical lie Mikey will throw at her, and knows how to debunk and tear apart each and every one. She knows what she wants, and she's determined to get it. But Mikey will try to lie their way out of it. They've manipulated and lied successfully in times of need before, this time they just need to escalate the act a bit more.

They let their nerves show; almost to an overdramatized point. They let the saddest images flash through their mind; finding Gerard dead, the funeral, the stormy weather that seemed to be everyday that year after the event. Every screamed unexplained argument, the ones that would explode just to break the suffocating silence. Lulling Pete to his death, and having the nerve to steal his first and only kiss. Having to watch Momma die right in front of them, the blood pooling over this now starkly white tile flooring. Then having to watch Pete die over someone that Gerard claimed he hated. Just watching this whole chain of events unravel, and finally, the tears begin to spill. They make their words come out like childish ramblings, co-dependent in nature,

"I-I don't know where she is. She's been gone for awhile now. Last I saw her, she said she was going to go to dinner with some church friends. Sometimes, she'll drop me back off at home, and then go back out again. This is somewhat common; she'll go out and disappear for a night or two, and I'll take care of myself. But it's definitely been a lot longer than it usually is, and I h-hate that I haven't reported it. Fuck, I should've said something awhile ago, I'm so sorry--"

"It's alright. Do you remember what friends in particular she said she was going out with? And how I could contact them?"

Mikey knows what they're about to do will risk everything they've built; but this is the only way to make their story seem credible.

"... I'm pretty sure that the Toro's were mentioned. Ya know, Ray, his mom Stephanie, and his dad Jerome? His parents don't have phones, but Ray does, he pays for it with the money he gets from his part time job. I don't know his number off of the top of my head though, but you should definitely question him." 

Hopefully, Ray will vouch for them, and lie that his parents do still go to those gatherings. Although most likely, Mikey will have to explain everything to him in order for Ray to go through with it, and that'll be a doozy...

"You seem insistent on me questioning this Ray kid... do you think he might've done something to her?"

"Anyone could've done something Officer... All I want is for my Momma to come home, ya know? She's everything to me, she's all I have left. Dad left, Gerard died, and we've become rather close... without her, I'm completely utterly fucked over. Things are already hard enough..."

Officer Jinxx is perplexed, and her voice carries a concerned tune,

"It doesn't sound like you've been doing very well."

"Yeah, no shit sherlock. I've been worried about my mom, stressed out because of the tons of homework I get, still trying to cope and comprehend all that's happened in the last few years. Everything is starting to collapse on me at once, and it fucking sucks."

"Well, if you need to get anything out. Like if you need someone to hear you out on stuff, I'm here for you to talk to."

"That's alright, but thanks."

"Is there anything in particular that makes you feel better? Like an after school activity, such as drama or sports? Or do you participate in the church youth group? Or do you just hang out with friends occasionally?"

"It's a no to all of that, m'am. Sure there are things I like to do; listen to music, binge watch series on Netflix, read. But none of them really make me feel better; they only fill up time, they distract me from the reality I live in,"

Mikey then chuckles dryly,

"You could say I'm sort of a homebody."

"So you do literally absolutely nothing outside your house? Besides school?"

"No, besides when momma used to take me to church. I used to do orchestra. I played the cello. But I recently dropped that for a study hall, since my grades are sinking and I suck at it anyway."

The best lies are the little white ones. The ones that slightly alter a situation, and shift people's perspective to where they see everything how you want them to see it. It's a glamour, it's a tool to make their lenses blurry enough to where they're tripping over themselves. They see a different splotchy reality, and they think your words are helping them decipher it all, when truly, they're the thing actually making your glasses dirty.

Mikey is telling a partial truth; yes, they do stay home quite a bit. Yes, they do only do those things simply to pass the time. Yes, they did use to play the cello.  
Ray's family did at one time go out for church dinners. Ray's family used to come over weekly, just like Pete's was just starting to do before his death.  
When the parents would talk, that's when Ray and Mikey would go back to Mikey's room. Sometimes they would play video games, other times they'd play with nerf guns, and frequently during these activities, the two would talk.

But on the rare occasion, there would be no talking. No games, no nothing at all. There would be just touching. Experimenting. They made a blood oath never to tell a soul about these little rendezvous.  
They never have to this very day.

But Mikey has obviously never worried about their momma, not once, ever since she spewed those terrible words about Gerard after he died. She means absolutely nothing to them.  
She was nothing but a pair of cement galoshes, pulling them further and further underwater. If she lived any longer, Mikey probably would've suffocated and drowned, just like their brother, the body count rising to a two.

"Excuse me Michael??"

Officer Jinxx's voice snaps Mikey out of their trance.

"Yes?"

"I just asked you if you've ever partaken in unhealthy habits. Drugs? Violence, whether that be towards yourself or others?--"

"I would never do that. Gerard taught me how bad that shit is..."

Mikey begins to feel awkward. Shouldn't she be asking more specific questions? This is all very vague, and Mikey still can't quite piece together why exactly she's here.

Maybe they should directly ask about it. It's a normal thing to ask, most people probably would've said something by now.

"Anyway, why exactly are you here?"

Mikey asks, making direct eye contact with the officer.

Officer Jinxx thinks for a moment. She knows this kid is lying to her already; she can sense the shift in their voice when lies are spewed, it's more strained and slightly different in pitch. When they tell the truth, their voice is deeper, and she's usually able to catch their gaze. Not to mention, the lies seem to be the more scripted, while the truths are blunt. 

Why would they lie if nothing is going on here? Even if Mikey didn't commit the murders, Officer Jinxx can sense that something is off. 

She's been tiptoeing the subject for awhile, trying to get to know Mikey and who they are.  
She knows that the best way to truly see someone is to look into their eyes.  
Michael's eyes are cold and lifeless; it's the look of someone who's been through all too much to the point of complete and utter numbness. Whatever joy used to be in this kid has been stolen far too early.

Officer Jinxx sighs,

"We have reason to suspect that you have information about the murders that you're withholding from us. The victims being Jason Jergen, Fredrick Willins, Angelica Xavier, Teddy Lot, Andy Yin, Della Uka, Dick Driver, Lilith Equi, Gwen Sed, Jim and Kim Barnaby, and the list goes on for quite awhile. Overall on it, there's about fifty five victims, give or take a few. We also suspect that you know something about the disappearance of Pete Wentz and your mother."

Mikey pouts, 

"But why me? Why do you think I did it?"

"First off, you were the last one who saw Pete alive. His mother caught him sneaking out the last night he was seen, and she told me that when confronted, Pete said he was going to your house. Her being kind, she let him go anyway, obviously not knowing that she'd never see her son again. You being suspected of your mother's disappearance was originally more of an automatic thing, since you're a close relative of hers. Finally, your brother's DNA was found on every single crime scene. Only he's dead, I saw that myself when I came here three years ago. I personally think that our technology is acting up and that you, Michael, are the killer. My theory is further being proven by the fact that almost everything you've said so far is a blatant lie, and I can see it in your mannerisms, your change of voice, and your attitude. You may think that that's a bit judgmental of me, that that's not real evidence. But you know what is evidence? The fact that you're lying about The Toro's. They haven't gone to the church or it's gatherings in years, I go to the same place as you all do. So I can one hundred percent guarantee that even if you're not the killer, and that DNA is somehow actually your brother's, you definitely know something about this. So please actually tell me something legit, or my time here is being wasted."

It takes a moment for the force of Officer Jinxx's words to really hit Mikey. It's a hard punch to the gut, and they feel like they're going to be sick.  
It's difficult for Mikey to recover from the blow, because they weren't mentally prepared for it. Sure they knew that the officer probably had years of experience interrogating criminals, hard cold criminals who had perfect poker faces, and grand stories and alibis that they concocted months before their horrendous crime was committed. But Mikey was foolish and cocky, actually thinking that they could lie their way out of this, and that stupidity has now come to bite them in the ass. 

They could, of course, lie some more. But what good would that do? The officer is already on to them, that would only make everything worse. 

Truthful words are at the tip of Mikey's tongue, they threaten to slip and tumble like a person on an icy mountainous slope. But they can't let them fall, they just can't, that steep downfall and that crushing landing would be the death of Gerard and themself. 

Mikey wants to do the deed themself, they want to kill off Gerard and sweep this whole mess under the rug. But if the world found out about Gerard's vampiric secret, it would erupt into chaos. An incomprehensible mess on a large scale would occur, and Mikey would find themselves right smack dab in the middle of it.

In this tense moment, the front door bursts open. In walks the man of the hour, Gerard Way, dressed up in blood splattered clothes, and accessorizing with guts and gore. The red juice runs down his chin, and his eyes are bright and wild. His obviously giddy and gleeful mood is just beginning to dim, it being from the euphoric high experienced during his latest feast.

The scarlet droplets splash on the ground behind him as he walks to the kitchen.

"Hey Mikey. Who's this? What's going--?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Jillian get into an altercation. Gerard ends up begging Jillian not to arrest him, having to reveal how he's a vampire in the process.

Jillian can't believe her eyes. 

Gerard Way is alive; the same boy who had haunted her dreams, the same boy who's brains were stained and splattered on a wall painted a tranquil sky blue, the same boy who should very much be dead. But yet, he's not, he's standing here functioning perfectly normal, as if he hadn't destroyed his fragile glass like body three years back.

He sounds so innocent, speaking like a child. Yet he's covered in another person's blood; it's the physical projection of an oxymoron.

"Gerard Way?"

Her voice comes out frightened; and she hates it. She can't let him know that she's scared. Scared people can be manipulated, taken advantage of, and easily forced to commit actions they'll regret later, all because they fear their lives coming to an end. Jillian doesn't think her life will end, not now anyway. She's just terrified of what Gerard could possibly be capable of. Is he a typical human being, who happened to be smart enough to know how to stage a fake death scene? Or did he come back from the dead? Is he even human? Was he ever human?

"Yes?"

Gerard is currently freaking out. He had sworn to Mikey several times that this exact scenario would never occur; that the police would never catch him due to him being dead. Yet here they were, as the officer in front of them stands up, and pulls out a shiny gun, aiming it straight at Gerard's chest.

"Up against the wall. Now!"

She commands, her voice wobbling slightly.

He's probably going to get thrown in jail for life, and Mikey probably will get in trouble too for withholding information, if Gerard doesn't act quickly. This is a difficult situation to get out of. 

He can't kill her, the officers at the station probably know about her coming here and questioning Mikey. Her murder would likely be pinned to Mikey due to circumstantial evidence, and Gerard can't let that happen.  
Maybe if he told the officer the whole story, about him being a vampire and needing to kill in order to live, maybe she'll give him some kind of exception. Maybe she'll understand.

Or maybe she'll just think you're fucking insane, and she'll just want you locked up even more, 

Gerard thinks,

Or maybe she'll believe you, and regardless want you to be captured. Mythical monsters don't ever get privileges once they're discovered by the public. In fact, added to your imprisonment, you'll probably get experimented on. Like you're in a sci-fi movie or some shit like that.

Gerard sighs,

"Look, I'll talk to you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. But can't we just do it here?"

"No. Wall, now!"

Gerard has come to the conclusion that he might have to use some kind of somewhat violent tactic in order to force the officer to stay here and listen to his story without arresting him.  
He has an idea; it's an incredibly ridiculous idea, one that he desperately hopes works.

"I'm not moving,"

He simply says, an arrogant smirk growing on his face.

The officer slowly creeps over, her gun still being held in front of her,

"Don't get cocky, you murderous bastard. Who's the one with the gun here?"

Gerard laughs,

"And who's also the one who's too scared to use force on me? Who's too scared to even try pulling that trigger?"

"Fuck you!"

In a blink of an eye, the safety of the gun is flipped off, and a bloody hole is located in Gerard's chest. The pain is excruciating for the first couple of seconds, but it begins to heal almost immediately. He falls to the ground, pretending to be hurt. The officer then takes advantage of what she thinks is a moment of weakness. But as soon as she's right behind Gerard, ready to grab both of his wrists and lock them into handcuffs, Gerard stands up. He whips around, and pins her wrists to the wall, her gun falling out of her hands. He kicks the dropped weapon under the table, and asks,

"You wanna see something?"

Jillian knees Gerard in the crotch, knocking him off of her for a moment. She drops to the ground, and crawls over to where her gun is laying. She probably should've taken the opportunity to run out of the house, but she knows if she does, Gerard and Mikey could easily go on the run. 

The idea sickens her, the mere thought of another town going through this shit. She has to either arrest Gerard, or kill him.  
She's honestly fine with either of those two options.

Gerard's hand grabs her ankle, and with her now retrieved gun, she shoots multiple times at his wrist. On impact, blood shoots everywhere. She not only hits his wrist, but also his hand. It looks mangled and disgusting, and a couple of his fingers seem to just barely be dangling, kept together by mere tiny bloody threads. 

But to her horror, she watches as the hand seems to heal itself, almost stitching itself back together. Every fragile blood vessel connecting, every bone cracking and shifting together, every bit of skin growing back into place. It's as if the hand was never injured at all. 

Gerard had let go of her during all of this, and Jillian once again should've ran or attempted to attack, but instead, she couldn't help but stare at the phenomenon occurring in front of her. It takes her a moment to see that Gerard is no longer standing. He's sitting cross legged in front of her, basically showing her how this works.

"I'm sorry for attacking you. But it was the only way I could prove to you that I'm not necessarily human; if I had told you upfront that I wasn't that, you would think I'm crazy. You would never be able to see this at the station, for I'm pretty sure you're not legally allowed to physically harm the people you interrogate. I knew you'd defend yourself, and wound me, and then I could show you this. I don't want to kill you, or hurt you, I just want you to listen to me. I want to explain my obviously shitty actions, from the beginning to end. Please, let me tell you the complete story here instead of at the station."

Jillian glances into Gerard's dark red eyes. They're filled with a million different shades of emotions, blended together to enhance one overall feeling; sadness. Synonyms including glum, depressed, basically as blue as the color of the boy's room.

She mutters,

"Fine. But I'm listing your rights so I can use this in court if need be. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney, if you can't afford one, one will be provided for you..."

Then, she silently nods, and Gerard begins to explain,

"You already know that I'm technically dead. I died three years ago by shooting myself in the head. You can thank my clinical depression for that shit. I thought I was worthless, that no one cared, that I was simply a waste of space. I felt aimless and empty. I felt like I was a black and white character in a world vibrant with color. Everything was so plain and dragging... --"

"--Anyway, I think you get the point. But I was wrong, there was one person who cared; this being my sibling Mikey, whom you spoke with first. Mikey looked up to me a lot; and I didn't know this till I came back, but they basically depended on me for stability. When I died, Mikey began to go through the same stuff; the depression, the suicidal thoughts, all of that. Everything for them was going to shit, and I think they fell in love with the idea of me coming back and fixing everything. Making everything the way it used to be. So one day, they came up with the bright idea of bringing me back from the dead."

"They found this old spell book, and translated the Latin into English. The spell needed a human sacrifice in order to work. You see, this is where Pete comes in. Mikey manipulated Pete into committing suicide by saying it was a pact. Mikey didn't think it'd really work, so they genuinely were going to commit suicide if I didn't come back."

"Yet I did. I came back, and I felt... different. I felt extremely thirsty, to the point where my throat felt like it was being scratched from the inside. Then I saw Pete and Mikey, laying side by side. This predator came alive inside me... I only remember flashes of it, how bright the blood seemed to be, how cold Pete's flesh was when I bit into him. It's mostly sensations and feelings, ya know? When I was conscience after I fed, I realized what I had done; I had ripped this innocent kid apart in a hunger-driven rage."

"When Mikey woke up from their nap; they hadn't cut deep enough for it to be deadly, they had just passed out, we exchanged words. Got in an argument. I left for a month or so, and I was out on my own. I told myself I was killing to survive; and for the most part I was. But I was so frustrated with my current situation, I think I took my anger out on others as a way to cope as well.--"

"-- That's how it started out anyway; but the more I killed, the more I lost myself. The more I kept going, the more I just murdered for the hell of it. Blood is not only a food source for me; it's also a drug. It's like solely surviving on the liquefied version of cocaine."

"Mikey kept looking for me in dangerous places. So eventually I also had to kill people in order to protect them from harm. My sibling means the world to me, and it would kill me if they got hurt trying to find me, especially because I'm someone who's a fucking lost cause anyway."

"Eventually I came home. I visited Mikey when my mom wasn't around. I also met a nice boy named Frank. Those two managed to keep me grounded. Sure I still killed for food, but I stopped doing it impulsively. I stopped using it as a way to feel better, and I now can honestly say that the only reason I feed is so I can live."

"Anyway, you remember how I attacked Pete? I turned him. He came back looking for revenge. Doing this, he killed my mother, and was about to kill Mikey. I killed him before he could do such a thing. He's now a bundle of ashes resting next to our dead dog underground in the backyard. My mom is back there too. Every other body has either been disposed in the woods, or left where the person was attacked."

Gerard pauses, and then concludes,

"That's pretty much it."

Jillian raises her eyebrow,

"So... You're basically a vampire?"

"Yeah. I guess you could say that."

Jillian huffs,

"Are you expecting some kind of special treatment or some bullshit because of this?"

"I just thought... I thought you would understand... I can't control it. Listen, putting me in jail wouldn't do any good. If anything, it would make it easier for me to kill. I have increased strength, I could easily bend the bars and break locked doors, and I'm in close vicinity of people all the time. Inmates would die."

"Well, I'd rather have criminals murdered than innocent people."

Gerard responds, slightly irritated by her comment,

"Whatever. Listen, I can't leave Mikey alone by themself. They're not eighteen yet, and I have to take care of them."

"How have you even been caring for Michael? You don't have a job!"

Gerard lies,

"I do odd jobs here and there. We barely get by, but it's something."

"Where's your dad at?"

"We have no idea. In all honesty, if I knew, I would've told Mikey to pack their bags and go live with him. I don't want Mikey living like this, having to deal with my vampire shit. They won't have a good future if things continue to be this way."

Jillian ponders the information she's been given. Her infamous serial killer is a vampiric borderline-teenage boy who kills uncontrollably, and who deeply cares a lot about his sibling. Her heartless murderer is the same boy who's suicide scene she stumbled into. Her cold menacing monster is not what she illustrated in her head.

Her deadly criminal is Gerard Way.

How should she handle this? It's not like there's some booklet on how to handle vampire criminals, or hell, just vampires in general. 

"Look, if you really think it's what's best... then take me away. But leave Mikey out of this. They're innocent,"

Gerard says somberly, his arms raised in front of him. He prepares himself for the cold slap of the cuffs, for the walk of shame out the door, for the harsh horrible idea of prison. 

He thinks about never seeing Mikey and Frank again, for them to be little more than ghosts in his head, imaginary friends that'll visit him in his cell from time to time. They'll never truly be there, they'll be with the blinding sunshine and the raging oceans, and with everything outside the black and white world of the prison. They will be ideas that Gerard exaggerates and romanticizes to the point where they aren't even themselves anymore. 

It'll all be make believe, a world Gerard creates so he can cope with spending his eternity in prison. 

Jillian looks at the boy in front of her. His eyes are closed, and new red tears fall down his dried blood-caked cheeks. He's trying to swallow back his own sobs, but they keep climbing back up again, persistent to be freed. 

She then takes notice of Mikey, who's now in their room. But they've been listening, the door is cracked open, and she can see the kid on their knees, their dark eyes watching the scene unfold in fright. 

She grabs the cuffs, the metal cold and icy in her hands. What if Gerard was right about him being too dangerous to be in prison? What if this isn't the right thing to do? He could kill lots of people, not just inmates, but also potentially the security guards. But then again, couldn't they just stick him in isolation? 

He could probably easily break out of there though,

Jillian thinks,

Hell, he could easily break out of the entire facility. Not only would prisoners and guards be in danger, but so would the rest of the employees of the building. People who don't stand a chance, who don't have any sort of combat training, could be slaughtered in seconds. All of these lives lost, due to one single mutant freak. He'll kill wherever he goes, whether it be in a mental ward, or prison, or in civilization. He's unstoppable, the only way to truly solve this problem is by killing him. But how do I kill someone who can't get hurt, who can heal themselves no matter what injury they receive? How can I kill someone who's a million times stronger than me? 

As Jillian continues to think about it, she's scared to realize that there's no solution to this. No solution to stopping Gerard from being a menace to society. Her case will never be certifiably solved, the victim's families and friends will never be at ease. She'll surely be fired from the force thanks to this case. Thanks to Mikey being desperate enough to bring Gerard back, thanks to Gerard being some kind of fucking immortal, thanks to Gerard having to suck blood and kill in order to survive.

There is only one thing she can do, one thing that'll at least get him out of this area and protect the people she knows and loves. She knows this is selfish, she knows that it would be better for her to pathetically attempt to kill Gerard and die not in vain. She also knows that this decision is one that Gerard would prefer, and that sickens her. He deserves to be punished, and this is doing practically the opposite.

But this is the best she can do, and she sighs,

"I won't arrest you. But I want you to leave. I want you to disappear out of existence, and go as far away from here as possible. No killing here, no killing anywhere near here. You have a week to go, and if I, or any of my colleagues, have to investigate another crime scene that's connected to you after that point, I will find a way to kill you.--"

"-- As for Mikey, I'll do my best to track down your father, and hopefully he can be Mikey's parental guardian. If you leave before we find your dad, then I'll take care of Mikey till we do find him. Now if it's been an extremely long period of time, or your dad ends up being dead, then I'll find a different relative to take care of them. Deal?"

"Deal,"

Gerard automatically says,

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing any of this shit for you. This is literally the only thing I can do to stop you from killing any more townsfolk. So don't thank me."

Both Gerard and Jillian crawl out from under the table, and stand up. Before she leaves, she mutters,

"Please go take a shower Gerard. You smell like death."

"That sounds metal as hell,"

Gerard grins,

"But that's what I was planning to do anyway. Just because I'm undead, doesn't mean I don't care about my personal hygiene."

Jillian rolls her eyes as she exits, closing the door behind her.

She thinks about how she said that she'd take care of Mikey. She's a single parent with twins (whom are toddlers), how is she supposed to afford taking care of a teenager too? Also the fact that she just let a murderer free, and that the murderer was the same boy who had committed suicide all those years ago. Not to mention that the boy is now a vampire, and has eternity to live.  
She wonders if vampires are the same as they are in stories; that they're allergic to garlic, that they can't be seen in mirrors, that they must be invited inside, that they burn to a crisp in the sun. Are other mythical creatures real too? Like werewolves, or demons, or goblins, or fairies?

As these fantastical thoughts circulate her brain, reality is currently crashing into Gerard's head. The notion that he has to leave everything he loves and knows behind is damming, and it makes him increasingly nervous and anxious. He's having something like a panic attack, his stomach twisting and knotting with every emerging thought. He won't see Mikey, and won't have a clue to where they are. He can't protect them from the evils of the world any longer, they will be as vulnerable as they were when Gerard was dead. What if they spiral down into their depression again? What if they harm themself? What if Mikey dies, and Gerard doesn't even know about it?

What will he tell Frank? Can he even tell Frank? Maybe it would be best if he slipped away without a word, maybe it'd be better for Frank to think that Gerard abandoned him. 

Then again, Gerard would rather have Frank be mad at him, than have Frank be in pain and sad over his sudden departure. Maybe Gerard should act like an asshole and push Frank away to guarantee an angry reaction. That would the for the best, but Gerard thinks that he probably doesn't have it in him to act that way. Hurting Frank at all makes Gerard feel nauseous, it makes his heart ache to the point where it threatens to bring more tears to Gerard's eyes. 

Frank doesn't deserve this shit. All he's done is been nice to Gerard, talking to him about anything and everything, comforting him when he lets his emotions slip out, just being an overall good person. The only thing Frank has done wrong is develop feelings, and even though he's never admitted them, Gerard can see it in the way Frank looks at him. Each and every time Gerard notices it, it kills him a little more inside. 

It's not that Gerard doesn't like Frank back. It's just that Gerard is scared that he'd hurt Frank if they tried anything, whether it be a simple kiss, or something like sex. 

Adding the fact that he has to leave in a week makes it all so much worse, and as the scorching hot water from the shower stings Gerard's skin, he cries for Frank. He cries for Mikey too. 

He cries for everything he's already lost, and all that he's about to lose.

x x x x x


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Otep has a revelation, Luna reflects on her current situation, and Frank has a pooping dilemma (and also finds out some stuff).

Otep is sitting cross legged on her carpet floor, her eyes staring at her phone lying in front of her. Her brain keeps nagging at her, telling her to pick it up and attempt to explain everything to Frank about why she was acting rude towards Mikey. She also wants to say sorry, but something in her tells her that her apology would be useless. Or then again, that might just be her not wanting to admit that she was wrong for once.

She misses his presence in her life a lot more than she'll ever openly admit; she misses his ridiculous conspiracies and ramblings, how kind he was, how he put blind faith in literally everyone, how he was optimistic to the point where she would swear he was naive to everything shitty going on in this black hole of a world. This supermassive black hole of a god damn planet, that sucked all of the love and joy out of everyone in it, and only left bitter shells of hate in their place. The only exception to this sucking, this vampire esc way of draining until there's barely anything else, is Frank Anthony Iero, her once best friend, and it wasn't until this particular moment in time that she realized how beautiful of a person he is, and how rare it is to find someone like him.

She fucked up to put it simply; she fucked up epically, to the point where it was legendary. Frank was her only stable friend; unlike the rest of her many friends and acquaintances, who fade in and out of her life like a weak TV signal during a storm; like the TV, they'll be there when there's a heavy downpour, but once the lightening strikes and things get really scary, they disappear like shadows into the night.

Otep told herself that she'd do her part tonight for her group's science project; she procrastinated doing it till the very day before it was due. If she doesn't do it tonight, then she'll let the group down, and the one kid who actually gave a fuck about getting a good grade (the kid's name in this case is Melanie) would have to pick up the pieces like always.   
Melanie doesn't deserve that; Otep knows her, not well, but good enough to know that she has a lot of shit on her plate at the moment, and is super stressed out.

But even the thought of Melanie freaking out can't motivate Otep now; its three am, and her brain is currently focused on one thing and one thing only; her broken friendship with Frank.

It didn't bother her before this much; or maybe it did, and she just buried it deep down inside her, telling herself over and over again that her reasoning for not being friends with Frank was justifiable. But these early morning thoughts are screaming otherwise, and the fact that she's having period cramps and feels like her insides are being ripped apart doesn't help anything at all. 

She reaches for her backpack, dragging it across the floor towards her. She feebly unzips the bag, getting out her laptop. All she has to do is finish her slide on the powerpoint about supernovas. It's actually not too difficult, since Otep already has her research done. Really, if she would've done it earlier, she could've gotten it done in less than fifteen minutes.

But Otep's groggy mind stretches and twists the rather simple task into the hardest thing in the world; and with her foul mood, she just can't bring herself to open her laptop lid. She just sits there for a moment, the laptop in her lap, Smashing Pumpkins's album 'Adore' softly twinkling in the background (the song playing at the moment being 'Shame'). She feels drained, numb, and dead inside. 

With another glance at her phone, she begins weeping, her mascara painting gray streaks down her cheeks. She doesn't know what to do about anything anymore; her parents wouldn't understand at all ( and they definitely wouldn't believe her about the vampire shit ), and Luna, like everyone else in her life, has disappeared. That probably being because of Lindsey and her controlling ways, and the thought of that makes Otep cry harder, because there's literally nothing she can do about that. 

She glances up at her ceiling, and sighs shakily. She knows the only thing that'll give her any peace, any chance at all to get some sleep and even miraculously put her slide together, is to do the thing that's been tugging at her all night; apologize. But how? Frank doesn't usually stay up this late, so she can't call or text him. Not to mention that at this hour, in this mindset, there's no way she'd come up with a good apology anyway.

She picks up her iPhone, and puts in her pass code. She presses the little 'Messages' square, and goes to the messages exchanged between her and Frank. She chokes back another sob at the date of the last time they texted; it's been weeks, and even though for some that might be normal, it breaks Otep's heart. Frank used to check up on her almost everyday; and now there's nothing.

She types out an 'I'm sorry'; it's simple and direct, and it doesn't feel like enough to send. But it is enough to get her mind to stop racing; she decided she will apologize to Frank. Maybe not right now, in the earliest hours of the morning, where everyone else in the city seems to be sleeping, and it's so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. But she will later, she will fix this eventually, and that reassurance is enough to get her to open her laptop lid, power the machine on, and get her work done.

x x x x x

Luna sits inside Lindsey's house, staring out the glass window. The whole house actually feels like glass to Luna; if she makes one false move, one itty bitty wrong step, the house and everything in it would shatter. That including Lindsey, she herself is as fragile and unstable as this home. Luna has been keeping as quiet as possible, she rarely speaks and always agrees with what Lindsey has to say; because she's terrified of the consequences.

Those consequences are tattooed on her body; big bulging bruises that don't seem like they'll ever leave. They weren't from Gerard's attack awhile back, no, they were from Lindsey, the woman who reassured Luna that she'd be safe from violence in her care. But that was a lie, another masterfully crafted fairy tale for Luna to hopelessly fall for.

Luna doesn't know why she keeps thinking that Lindsey will change her toxic ways; maybe it's some buried need for normalcy, a regular stable life, instead of living on these streets and just barely getting by. Luna craves that so bad, and maybe her unrealistic craving is driving her to keep coming back to the one person who continuously builds her up and destroys her; like she's a part of this house, another object to be toyed with and broken apart over and over. 

Luna knows it's unhealthy, but she doesn't seem to care much anymore. When Lindsey isn't home, she just sits and watches TV, the reruns of old sitcoms accompanied with her dry chuckles. It's relaxing, these quiet moments without the stress of anything or anyone. She doesn't have to screw creeps and sickos anymore for cash, or deal with the hatred and the judgment placed on her because she's a transgender sex worker. No, she can just waste away in this glittering mansion of a dollhouse, the threads of her cloth body slowly being unwound until there's nothing left.

The moments where Lindsey is kind and loving are everything to her. Lindsey is all she has left, and maybe that was the plan all along, to isolate Luna until she was completely dependent on Lindsey and Lindsey alone.

Sometimes Luna worries about Otep, her only true friend she ever had. She knows that Otep is going through some really hard times, and that she probably needs Luna more than ever. But then she convinces herself that this will be better for Otep; she'll learn to handle things herself for once.

Maybe this blooming mindset should worry Luna more; maybe she should realize that this is alarming, that being isolated like this isn't normal, that tiptoeing around every subject and fearing the destruction of everything you have left shouldn't be her reality.

But as Lindsey walks into the door, her cheeks rosy red and her eyes lighting up the room like christmas lights, Luna's racing thoughts crash into one another, and explode into a fiery blaze. She cleans up her inner carnage, pushing it underneath a bed of sorts, pretending it's not there at all.

But something inside of inside of her, something she wants so desperately to deny, is telling her that if she doesn't leave Lindsey soon, that 'bed of sorts' will eventually be her own coffin.

x x x x x x

Frank is darting to the bathroom. He really needs to take a dump, and he knows that he'll probably be late to class (because of the short five minute passing period), but he seriously cannot hold it anymore.

Meanwhile, Otep also knows she will most likely be late to class. She just arrived to school from a doctor's appointment, and needs to sign in in the office. She'll probably get a pass, not directly getting into trouble, but the embarrassment of walking in while everyone else is starting a lesson is punishment enough.

After signing in, Otep sees Frank sprinting down a close to empty hallway. The one minute bell just sounded, and the teachers are starting to close their classroom doors and get their lessons organized. Otep realizes that this is her chance to apologize; sure it might be a bit rushed, but it's the thought that counts, right?

She speed walks behind him, gradually catching up. But just as she is about to say his name, the 'ff' sound just barely brushing her lips, he opens the door to the boy's bathroom. She sighs, and decides to just wait outside. She does have a pass after all, a couple minutes of waiting won't get her a tardy or anything.

She sits by the door, her eyes staring up at the multicolored ceiling. It's almost homecoming time, and the school decorated it's halls to celebrate, each one having a different overall theme. The large lights have sheets of bright color over them; blues, greens, reds, yellows, colors of all kinds. It's beautiful, almost hypnotizing, and it makes the boring grain colored floor alive with different rainbow shades. 

Otep never really was the kind of person to get excited about school spirit; similar to Frank, she just doesn't get the hype, and feels like assemblies should be used to discuss more important issues. But the cool decorations, the special days where you dress up as characters or get to have pizza parties, all the excitement over possibly getting asked or ending up with someone at the dance, it almost gets to her every year. But she always get herself out of her minimal school spirit phases, by reminding herself about the scum people that walk these halls, and how the school solely seems to focus on sports and promoting that instead of the arts.

Lost in her train of thought, she doesn't notice Frank saying her name until he taps on her shoulder.

"Hey Otep. I'm assuming you want to talk to me?"

"Oh, ummm... yeah. I do. I just wanted to say sorry. For, ya know, slapping you before... and also, what happened with Mikey wasn't me being shitty. Okay, maybe calling them Michael purposefully to hurt them was a little crappy of me but... that wasn't what it looked like."

"Okay, then what was it then? What were you arguing about, and what the hell made you lash out like that?"

Otep hesitates. She knows that if she tells Frank, Mikey's plan to kill Gerard would be absolutely ruined. Frank could run off and try to save Gerard, or even do something bad to Mikey if it meant protecting his vampire... friend (Otep suspects that there's more going on between Frank and Gerard, but she won't say anything about her suspicions now obviously). 

She knows there has to be a way to go about this, some way to tell Frank the truth, but not the entire truth. She knows that not telling the full truth will involve a bit of lying. Not large lies, just small little white ones, ones that will benefit everyone in the end.

"Look, Mikey wanted me to help them with something bad--"

"Cut it out with vague shit,"

Frank snaps,

"Why did Mikey want your help, and what exactly would it be for? Why was it bad?"

"Okay.. fine.. they wanted me to help them kill Gerard, okay? I didn't want to do it because I knew hurting Gerard would hurt you... I lashed out at Mikey because they grabbed my arm after I told them over and over again that I didn't want to do it. I hate being touched, you know that. So I blew up and got violent, and I guess I took it too far. I don't know if they found someone else to help, or if they're even still going through with their plan."

The little lies seem to work, and as Frank's agitated expression smooths out, his tone of voice becomes softer and kinder,

"Why do they want to kill him?"

"Mikey said it was basically because they realized their brother was a killer. A murderer. A total monster. They regretted the day they brought him back."

Frank's expression becomes wistful, yet contemplative. His next words are barely audible,

"I knew it. I knew something like that was going on. My weird theories are usually never right. But ever since Gerard came around, every extreme and odd thing I come up with about this whole situation actually is correct, and to be honest, I don't like being right that much... not at all... it's kinda scary having your paranoia be confirmed, because all it does is make it even worse..."

He rakes his hand through his hair, and begins to walk away to class. But not without turning around, his hazel eyes directly meeting Otep's, and saying,

"I forgive you, and thank you for not hurting Gerard. It means a lot. I know you probably agree with Mikey more than me but... seriously. Thanks."

The words of the naive comment squeeze Otep's heart hard, almost as if they were trying to break it. They almost succeed, and it takes everything in Otep to hold back the tears forming in her eyes, and say,

"You really don't need to thank me. But I guess you're welcome."

A ghost of a smile appears on Frank's face,

"I gotta go to class. But I'll see you later Otep. Maybe we could hang out later?"

But by the time Otep finally gets out a mumbled 'Yeah, that sounds cool', he's all the way down the hallway. 

Shouldn't she be happy that Frank isn't mad anymore? That he even offered to hang out later? She thinks she should be, but she's not at all. Those little white lies are nagging her now like little parasites, eating away at her insides and making her feel sick. 

She may have just gotten her friend back after weeks without talking, but she's never felt so terrible, so ill, so gross, and so very very alone.

x x x x x x

Frank isn't surprised when he sees Gerard sitting outside of the school again. It's as common as the sun occasionally passing behind clouds. It's just a part of a casual routine, and it's how Gerard and him plan out what they're going to do for day, since Gerard doesn't have a phone. 

Something as simple as this small routine being gone makes Frank get anxious and scared again. He's been fighting off anxiety attacks all day; they were caused by thinking about how he was right about Mikey, and also the painful idea of Gerard being gone.

Frank knows that Gerard has only been around for a short amount of time, but he still means the world to Frank. Every little moment they've shared, from decorating the treehouse to awkward talks in record stores, Frank treasures it. It's exciting and new, and the thought of his blooming friendship and possible romance withering when the seasons haven't even changed from summer to autumn, makes him terribly sad to the point where his whole body feels crushed by this overwhelming weight of glumness. 

Gerard is laying against the trunk of the tree, listening to an old Walkman. His eyes are closed, his orange hair messy from the breeze, his mouth curved in a slight smile. Whatever he is listening to, it must be pretty relaxing.

Frank sits down by Gerard, and nudges him in the shoulder. Gerard practically jumps out of his spot, and immediately pauses the music,

"Hey Frank... What's the matter?"

Frank's almost automatic reaction to that question, a spilling of guts, is halted when he realizes that he never really did come to a solid conclusion over whether or not he's going to save Gerard. He can't lie about anything; he can't say nothing is wrong, he can't make up something in place of what his real problem is (this all being because Frank is literally the worst liar). 

It's all crashing down on Frank, and he's utterly confused as to how to handle the rubble and wreckage. All he knows is that the thought of Gerard being gone makes him feel like shit.

He glances up at Gerard, and notices that even though Gerard's question was aimed at him, his mind is truly somewhere else. His eyes are staring at his hands, and Frank sees that Gerard's nails are chewed on, all the way down to the stub. Something must have happened to Gerard as well to make him distant like this, and Frank knew that this would be a great diversion from his own decision and issues,

"What about you man? You don't seem so great either..."

Gerard's eyes still refuse to meet Frank's as he simply states,

"I'd rather talk about it in a more private place."

"Okay. Do you want to come to my house?"

"No, not really... Can you ask your aunt if you can come over to my house instead?"

"Of course."

Frank texts Auntie Mimi, and her response is almost instant;

yeah, u can go. but come back be4 curfew

"She just said I could come. But I have to come back before curfew though."

"That's fine."

And the two start on their walk to Gerard's house, neither of them at all prepared for what the other might just reveal.


End file.
